((Hey everyone! Hope you're enjoying the story so far. I've still got plenty in store. This chapter is an original that strays a little from the key events of Jerome's timeline and I had a lot of fun with it. By the way, if anyone is interested I have a profile for Amelia which includes information on herself as well as photos of what Holly and Laura look like in the 'Relationships' section. This chapter involves a character I named Francis, who I imagined to be depicted by a young Kelly Reilly. Xavier I also imagined to look a bit like Avan Jogier. Enjoy!
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Rain poured relentlessly from the black clouds on this night. A resentful tumble of thunder drummed on in the distance. Amelia was making way down the sidewalk after picking up a few things from several shops; tools, food, the like, her black combat boots splashing faintly against shallow puddles of water. Taking a drag from her cigarette, she hauled all of the items into the trunk and circled around the sheening-slick car and got inside. Shuddering a bit, she rubbed her arms, turned on her car and blasted her heater. Christmas was nearing, and she couldn't help but be a little tempted to potentially celebrate the holiday in an unorthodox and likely dark fashion. Amelia's car peeled out and away from the sidewalk then as she made her way down the glistening roads, figuring she'd put her Christmas plans aside for now. There were other things to see to, after all.
Driving a small ways out of Gotham, she proceeded down a gravel, winding path that led to a metal gate. Beyond that was a relatively sizable home. Some lights were on inside, as the others were setting things up. It had been only around a month now since Amelia got her sisters on board to fully join the dark side of Gotham, and with their help came decent perks. She, her sisters, Jerome and Xavier were all able to join funds to purchase a home large enough to house them all. It was also off the grid, abandoned and thus needed quite a lot of work, though it was certainly a brilliant find, all thanks to Xavier.
Amelia entered her new home, the sound of the others shuffling and chattering a bit as they got certain rooms cleaned up and put together. The home itself was lovely, though quite old, ominous and rickety. Upon entering would be a reasonably sized entryway, three archways on either side of the space. The left archways led to the dining and living areas, while the right led to the office and recreational room. On the far end of the entryway was a turning stairway, a large window above that adorned with heavy curtains that were old though made of what seemed a good and elaborate quality and design. At a focal point in the entryway lay a large chandelier. The whole of the space had a dark, Gothic vibe, much to Amelia's liking.
Upstairs, there were 4 bedrooms in total; one taken by Laura and Xavier, one for Holly, one for Jerome and Amelia and the fourth decidedly was left as a guest room. The office space in particular, Jerome intended on using for his own purposes, though most of their work would be conducted in the underground basement, which was fairly large and cavern-like. As for Jerome's followers, they were given the option to live in Jerome's previous hideaway, which they were indeed raving over.
Amelia entered Jerome's office, placing some things away in a drawer and then glanced to him where he sat, propping his feet up on his desk and clasping his hands behind his head. "Certainly is an upgrade from my previous rat-hole of an office," the maniac mused. "Y'know, despite all the disembodied voices and such."
"Sure is," Amelia agreed as she took in the room; it seemed they got a lot done while she was gone. Jerome's office in particular was now rather complete; there was his desk in the midst of the room, long red embellished curtains covering the half boarded-up window beside him, some filing cabinets behind him and a large bulletin board with some articles pinned up, a map of Gotham... the works, initially. "And hey, we could use the spirits to our advantage. Also, looks to me like you're actually taking a more methodical approach to things now, eh?" Amelia smirked.
Jerome quirked a brow, jestfully flashing his teeth in a wicked smile. "Ah, for the most part. I am, as you know, a bit more of a spontaneous kinda guy. But, yes I will admit some planning wouldn't hurt. Frankly, because of this slew of plans that landed itself on our laps, we were set back a bit on targeting twinsie. But I've made arrangements with the Mad Hatter to get some information out of the principal of St. Ignacious. I'll be seeing to that tomorrow morning," he explained as he twirled a pen between his fingers. "Feel free to join in on the fun," an evil little spark glinted in his eyes.
"I'll keep that in mind," Amelia slipped to sit upon his desk, leaning closely. Jerome's eyes trailed her features intently before the black haired witch leaned to press a kiss to his lips. A hand rose to her jaw as Jerome returned the kiss eagerly. Recently, Amelia was opening up a bit more to him, and Jerome found himself growing the more possessive of her. Her love was like a drug, and reaping chaos with her even more so. The best part about it is that neither of them was particularly mushy, more-so intense. There was no need to say 'I love you' when their fire burned as brightly as it did. Jerome was more than okay with their dynamic. The vulnerability did come with some getting used to, for them both.
"Amelia," Laura's voice called into the space as she ventured past the pillared archways and into the office space. "I don't mean to interrupt, but Holly and I just discovered something. Come down to the coven with me," she sent on, her dark eyes urging Amelia along. The little witch spun and then flung herself off of Jerome's desk, to which Jerome's eyes slipped along her form in a suggestive way before he flicked his gaze to Laura.
"Mind if I tag along?" Jerome quipped. Laura merely waved her hand impatiently, to which her scampered over to follow them to the hidden entrance leading into the coven.
Laura led them down the oddly placed wooden steps and into the cavern, then headed over to where Holly sat at a round desk, upon which a glass ball glowed with an image inside. Amelia and Laura stepped forth, features aglow in the orb's light. "Who's she?" Amelia asked, looking from the image of a woman, slightly older than their trio, in the ball and then to her sisters.
"She is a rat who is trying to frame Holly and I," Laura clarified. "We asked the orb to seek out any potential trouble makers and she—so far—is one that drew up."
"Well, what're ya gonna do to get rid of this little snitch?" Jerome asked, something mischievous dancing in his eyes as he brought a hand thoughtfully to his chin and grinned a bit. Getting involved with a band of witches usually proved to be quite amusing for him.
The sisters looked at each other, plotting within their minds.
"We cast a spell to lure her here," Holly suggested.
"Amelia, you could potentially use the spirits here to your advantage," Laura sent on, turning her dark eyes to look to her green-eyed sister from behind her blunt-cut bangs.
A wicked smile edged onto Amelia's lips. "See? This is why I missed working with you two so much," Amelia put her arms around their shoulders. "We'll have a little fun with this sorry lady, scare her pants off," Amelia chuckled as she envisioned how this might turn out.
"And I'll finish the job," Jerome stepped forth, sharing an evil grin along with the three witches.
"Sounds like a ball," Holly agreed, her blonde curls of hair bouncing a bit as she nodded in agreement.
"Xavier's making dinner soon, let's have our guest over and show them our greatest hospitality," Laura purred as the three sisters took their places to sit around the orb to chant and bewitch their target.
-An hour later-
Francis trembled faintly, her palms sweaty and slick against the steering wheel of her car. She had just been setting up her station to print some photos of those pesky little witches to hang up around town to help bring them to justice. Only a week prior, one of them had targeted her brother. He ended up in a freak accident, more specifically went into a frenzy and drove straight off of a cliff and into the ocean. It was unlike him, thus she knew it had to be the work of those witches. All the same, she knew her brother should not have gotten involved with Dr. Freeze. She'd warned him that getting involved with criminals of that caliber could only bring trouble. They had a falling out, her brother having taken to trying to avoid the frozen man.
A curse pushed it's way from her lips. She had no idea why she was driving out of Gotham in the middle of the damn night, though chalked it up to anxiety. Eventually, she found herself pulling up a gravel path and to a large home. The lights were on inside, and a wonderful smell wafted from the open window. Exiting her car, she pulled the metal gate open with a creak and proceeded to the door, knocking three times. Francis felt robotic, and something surely didn't feel right to her. Why had she come here? Had she lost her mind after the trauma of losing her brother? She huffed, tucking her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear as she waited, eyes upon the dampened-dark porch steps under her feet.
"Welcome," a voice greeted, causing Francis to glance up to the doorway. She shivered, having been soaked from the rain. The somewhat short, dark haired woman looked utterly gutted at the sight of her. Her eyes were so big too, impossibly green... Francis couldn't seem to pry her eyes away from them. "Oh, my," the young woman pouted her full, red lips a bit. "You look lost. And you are drenched. But, you're in luck. We've just finished cooking up a feast. Why don't you come in? While the rain comes to a halt," she motioned a hand to the rain that still poured.
Francis smiled then. "That would be nice," she sent on with a nod, and another shudder as a cold gust of wind rushed up her dampened back. The gust was so strong, it hauled her inside and the front door slammed behind her, causing her to jump.
"This way," the pixie-like young woman led her through some archways and into the dining room. The table was vast, upon it lay several decadent selections of food.
"Wow," Francis uttered, "it all looks so delicious," she beamed as she looked to those sitting around the table. There were two young men, one sitting at the head of the table with red hair, and another with dark hair and tanned skin. Then there were two young women, one with blonde, quite curly hair and lovely eyes and a shorter, darker haired young lady with dark eyeliner, similar to how the woman who greeted her wore hers. They both looked to Francis and smiled, welcomingly—too welcomingly—and Francis couldn't help but feel that they looked oddly familiar. The young woman who answered the door murmured something unintelligible and that familiarity suddenly died away. There were nothing but a group of kind strangers, as far as Francis knew, in her wake.
The green-eyed young woman turned to the dark haired man. "Show our guest to the bathroom so she can dry off." Francis was then led to the other side of the entry way and was shown inside by the kind young man. When she shut the door, Xavier smirked faintly, knowingly and wickedly.
Francis took a look around, then opened up a wooden cabinet and grabbed a plush towel. Patting herself dry, she shifted to look into the mirror as she was certain her makeup was likely a smeared disaster. The reflection in the mirror however caused Francis's breath to catch sharp in her throat. It was her; though a far more ghastly and grotesque version... her face was withered, her hair ragged and dirty, her eyes black, hollow, cracked and bottomless pits. Dread tore at her chest as Francis struggled to breathe, though she could not look away. The reflection opened it's mouth, impossibly wide as it emitted a horrid sound; akin to the raspy, screeching cries of death. Francis struggled as the figure moved it's decayed hands to it's throat, choking itself, all while Francis's hands mirrored along with the entity. Blue eyes were wide and tear-rimmed in utter horror, her voice croaking out as she fought her own grasp from her neck. Then, all too abruptly, the image fell away and her hands pried free.
Francis crumbled to the ground, catching her breath frantically, body quaking to the bone in terror. Eventually, she managed to hobble her way back to the kitchen. All eyes were on her as she reemerged, taking her spot back at the table. Xavier was setting the plates out, and moved to scoop some food up to serve her. "Thank you," Francis managed, still not sure what exactly happened in the bathroom... When she peered at her plate, what lay upon it caused her to lurch backwards a little. Bugs. All kinds of them, swarming her plate and then pouring into her lap, biting at her legs and stomach through her long skirt. Francis yelped loudly, edging hastily out of her seat. Though when she looked back to her spot after wiping herself off in a panic, the bugs were gone. Pasta lay on her plate, as if none of that even happened.
"You seem awfully shaken," the green-eyed woman arched her thin brows in deep concern. Inside however, she was laughing uncontrollably. Her target was utterly helpless against the spell work. The red haired young man couldn't seem to hold back his snickering, which caused this horrid feeling that something was wrong here to creep back over Francis.
Francis looked in disbelief at her plate, as she hesitantly took her spot again. Everyone peered at her in question, much to her embarrassment. "I apologize," she stammered. "I... I think I must be going through something," she admitted, picking up her fork with a shaky hand and taking a few bites. The food was delicious, hot and satisfying. Already she was beginning to feel at ease.
"Oh, you got a little food on your face, allow me," the green-eyed woman was moving then and when Francis went to look at her, she had the most deadly look in her eye and held a sharp knife in her bone-white hand. "This will only hurt a little," the woman's red lips spread into a wide, devil-like smile. Francis whimpered, though could not move. Her arms were latched to the arms of the seat, legs pressed firmly to the legs of it as well. Snapping her eyes shut, a wail flew from her lips when she felt that knife slowly make it's way through her cheek and up into her brain. The pain was riveting, hot, blinding. Flying from her spot, Francis fumbled away, tripping over the carpet and splaying onto the wooden floor hopelessly. A hand reached to frantically pat her cheek. There was no wound. Another illusion? "Where are you going? Dinner's only just started," the pixie-like woman loomed over, that same grin upon her lips as if she were a predator about to rip into her prey. Francis shrieked, scrambled to her feet, darting to the door only to fall over backwards on her rear when a shadow-like monster loomed over the front door, red eyes gazing harshly back at her. If she looked long enough, it felt as if her spirit was being sucked out of her.
Francis moved away then, scampered back down the hall to find a window to break through. Chanting and this ongoing, clown-like laughter drifted through the air, the sound making her skin crawl. Lightning struck violently outside, the chandelier overhead rattling as the lights flicked off. The smell of fresh food was replaced by that of death and decay, a hand clasping over her nose as Francis moved from window to window.
"You've made a dire mistake," a hollow voice drifted icily through the air, Francis turning to see an odd looking doll. The sinister little doll rose her hand, a knife glinting in the moon's light that shone through the large window in the stairway. "You will pay for trying to target us," the doll sent on in a tiny, childlike though evil voice. Francis blinked in disbelief, realizing then that the doll looked like Laura, one of the witches she was attempting to get rid of. As the doll rushed towards her, Francis sprinted away towards the stair way.
As she reached the window however, an entity similar to the one in the bathroom mirror appeared. This one held curls of blonde hair, the same deathly gray and decaying skin as the last and oozing, black eyes. It levitated there, it's tattered layers of white drifting in spectral fashion as it opened it's mouth wide, it's jaw cracking open as it growled deeply towards Francis. She bolted then up the steps as the being reached it's boney digits, ripping some of her hair out to which Francis screamed and sobbed.
Eyes flicked hastily around, trying desperately to find an exit. She entered a bedroom, pausing when she noted a dark figure standing in the corner, holding a silver platter barely visible in the moon's light that shone through the window. Moving towards the window, the figure opened the platter and a soft hissing sound drifted into her ears then. Trying to haul the window open, Francis shrieked when snakes made their way over the glass, a few darting out and biting into her face. The figure chuckled darkly, and then vanished. Francis then pushed the snakes away and made way for another room. There had to be a room that wasn't being haunted. Truthfully she was so stricken, and she had no idea how the witches figured out she was the one trying to pin them. She didn't know what she did wrong... what she did to deserve all of this. Though the witches had a dark reputation and apparently if you so much as tried to pin them, this is the sort of game they liked to play. Francis merely hoped it was a prank, and that she could at least get out alive. God, she hoped she could at least have that much.
Proceeding down the hallway quickly, though carefully as not to run into any walls, she tried moving a little more quietly now as she proceeded into another dark bedroom. Her heart lept with relief when she saw that the latch to open the window was left open. Now she could easily manage her way down. She was on the second floor, so she may have to hobble off with a broken foot, but she didn't care at this point. A film of sweat made itself known and she realized now how much being in this much fear could take out of her. The window was large, large enough to push the bed through to create a softer landing for herself. Blue eyes glanced around. The coast was clear, thus she pushed the window open, the breeze outside beckoning her out. Moving to the bed, she pushed it with all her might and positioned it to the window. Then, she shoved it out and had lodged it about a third of the way outside of the opening. A faint chuckle sounded just then and dread yet again clutched her throat. So close!
"Y'know... I just bought that bed," a voice—an oddly familiar one—said as footsteps neared, slowly clicking against the floor boards. Something in his tone was quite dark. Where had she heard that voice?
His figure then appeared against the moon's light from the shadows. It was the red haired young man from earlier, only now he sported this sinister grin that stretched wide on his face. He looked to Francis from under his brow in this feral way that made her heart thud in panic. She recognized him now, now with that smile... Jerome Valeska. Shoes clicked closer as he pulled a blade from his pocket. "It's been a hoot, screwing around with you. You should have seen the look on your face when you thought bugs were crawling all over you. Priceless!" an ear-splitting cackle flew from his lips.
"You are all monsters," Francis shook as she spoke, edged against the bed hanging partially out of the window. The wind outside was cold and bitter against her back, through heR blouse.
"Oh?" Jerome tilted his head as he inched closer, still twirling his blade around in this way that was sort of nonchalant. It was telling; it surely told Francis that he'd killed many and quite enjoyed it, at that. That thought made her shudder visibly. "You were targeting the witchy trio, weren't you? All because there was some mix up with your ah, muttonhead of a brother? I'd say... there are monsters inside of us all... wouldn't you agree?" Another laugh ripped from Jerome then. He was having a blast with it all. He hooted with laughter when he'd rendered Francis speechless. It was because she knew he was correct. Francis opened her mouth to retort somehow, though could only stare in horror as Jerome warped into something as his laughing drew on. His grin stretched impossibly, his features growing into something a bit cartoon-like, what looked to be a sinister jester with sloppily-painted red lips, a mouth riddled with fang-like teeth and wacky hair. He moved closer, blade in hand. Francis tried to edge away, only to realize she was already backed into a corner, feeling not unlike a caged and helpless animal.
"Unfortunately for you, you won't get to relish what sheer joy it is, to be a killer," a cackle drew forth again, Francis screaming as a knife was plunged into her chest. The pain was so vivid, and her mind wheeled and wheeled. It was when she felt her own hot blood dripping that she knew this time, it was not an illusion. Jerome grinned to her, his eyes wild as he relished each moment of her demise. "Game's over," a hand reached then, to push Francis out of the window. Her neck had broken, blue eyes glassy and far away... and all she could see now was this growing darkness as her death loomed close to her. All she could feel was this seering, splitting pain and this feeling of being an utter fool. Only now did Francis learn not to mess with this band of criminals.