The Fog Thickens

The rain had eased by the time the trio were back within Gotham city. Jim was gripping the steering wheel of his car tightly, causing his knuckles to turn white. Jeremiah was sitting in the passenger seat, staring apathetically out the window, watching as streetlights and skyscrapers streaked by. Bruce was tapping his fingers impatiently against the left door of the backseat, ready to be in the midst of the chaos Jerome was causing.

He hated the psychopath with an almost painful might. In fact, if there was anyone to rival his disgust and fury towards Patrick Malone it was Jerome Valeska. Sure, Bruce had been singled out by Gotham's criminals before. He didn't even fault them for it really, as his family truly was the city's beacon of light and hope. But he'd never felt so sick as he had when Jerome had taken him to that carnival. Being forced to see people hurt, mutilate, and abuse their family and friends in such an open and public environment had felt like a violation of his morals. And that's exactly what the murderer had intended. He'd wanted to make Bruce vulnerable and break his faith in humanity and the good of his city before he killed him. That was comedy gold to Jerome. But in the eyes of anyone else, there was nothing funny about it. Just twisted cruelty. That's why Bruce hated him more than any other criminal he'd ever encountered.

There was a brief period of time after Jerome's resurrection that Bruce had considered forgiving him. And that just proved how incredibly naive you were, he thought with self-disgust. He didn't want to dwell on that time now, though. Not when they were racing through the streets in an attempt to put an end to his reign of terror.

"Bruce, are you okay?" Jim's question yanked him out of his thoughts.

"What? Oh, yes, I'm fine. Just going over the plan in my mind." Bruce replied, continuing to tap his fingers against the door.

"That's good, but don't overthink it. Whatever happens, we will get you and Jeremiah out of there safely. Doing your part up until then is all that matters, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"If I may add something to ease Bruce's mind, detective?" asked Jeremiah softly. Jim nodded his consent and he continued. "Even if things go awry, I'm willing to sacrifice myself to ensure your safety. You're precious to this city and its people, and I'm sure they need you now more than ever. So don't worry. Everything will work out as it should."

"I appreciate that Jeremiah, but I don't want to see it come to you sacrificing yourself. And if the life of either one of us is demanded, I'd willingly give mine. I'm not some child that requires protecting. I'm very capable of carrying this out, thanks though." Bruce didn't mean to sound rude, and he really did appreciate Jeremiah's offer. But, he was sick of everyone in Gotham treating him like a child when he was just as, if not more, capable of executing a task of this calibre than the others. He was sure that if it came down to it, Bruce would be able to beat Jerome in a fight. Hell, he'd done it before.

"Of course. I didn't mean to imply that your actions were juvenile in any sense. I just want you to know that we're all looking out for you, and of course we expect you to do the same for us," Jeremiah added kindly.

Jim nodded at his words. They remained silent for the rest of the drive. The sounds of the approaching captive crowd were almost deafening anyways. The mixture of poorly played hard rock, screaming and crying people, and Jerome's own jokes told over the speaker system was enough to make any conversation impossible, even from the few blocks away that they were. Jim parked his car and they all got out, walking the distance between them and the show.

As they reached the massive gathering of people, they could finally get a clear view of Jerome. His admittedly handsome face, now marred by the staples holding it in place, was looking rather jubilant as he absorbed the fear of the people around him. He was wearing an eclectic suit that clearly didn't fit well on his broad shoulders. In fact, it appeared as though he'd bulked up a bit since returning to Arkham. Bruce hadn't noticed that when he'd ran into him at Zachary's diner. Fantastic, thought Bruce. Now he's muscular and crazy. That's exactly what we needed.

A pat on his shoulder from Jim signalled to Bruce that it was finally time to put their plan into action. He looked at Jeremiah, wanting to give the older man some confidence. But once again, he was shocked by his expression. Jeremiah was staring at his brother up on stage with so much icy hatred, Bruce could feel it from where he stood. He thought that Jim must have noticed too because he look at the red-haired man with concern.

"Let's get this over with." is all Jeremiah said as he began to weave his way through the crowd, Bruce close on his heels.

As they were halfway to the stage, Jerome finally saw them and laughed excitedly. "Well look who decided to show up? We were startin' to get nervous, especially the mayor here." Jerome said, gesturing to the man tied up and rigged to explode behind him. "My guests of honor! Please, take your seats on stage."

Bruce didn't hesitate as he kept striding toward what could very well be his end. Jeremiah, however, stood back nervously, evidently terrified of his twin. His fear didn't escape the watchful eye of his brother who added, "Don't be shy. We don't have all day." With some words of confidence from Jim, Jeremiah continued his walk towards the stage. The signal attached to Bruce pressed against him, reminding him of their plan.

"Hi, brother." Jerome whispered sinisterly.

Everything then went to hell all at once.

The snipers that had been positioned on the surrounding rooftops were shot as soon as Jim gave the order to fire on Jerome.

"A valiant, yet predictable effort. I had my men stake out the area last night. They watched as your little toy soldiers got into position and gossiped about how they're all God's gifts to humanity, compared dick sizes, and generally bored the hell out of us all. Now, you boys better get up here soon or the mayor's going to have a real bad time." Jerome smiled wildly, gesturing to the stage once more.

Jeremiah gripped Bruce's arm from behind him, offering support as they climbed the stairs up to the platform.

Jerome's eyes gleamed wickedly when he saw Jeremiah touch Bruce. "Oh, I didn't know you two had bonded so much! Tell me all about it, I'm just dying to know...and so are all of these people, I'm sure."

"You need to let the mayor and councilwoman go, Jerome. You gain nothing by keeping them here now that you have us." Bruce attempted to persuade the madman.

"Hmm, you're right. They're really no help now, are they?" And with a flourish of his hand, Jerome pressed the red button and detonated the explosive around the mayor's neck. Bruce winced in horror as he saw the mayor's head fly from his body, and crimson blood gushed from his exposed throat.

"My turn!" exclaimed Jerome as he reached for Bruce's hand, leading him over to Mayor Pritchard's now lifeless body. "S'cuse me, but this seat is reserved." Jerome remarked as he pushed the corpse off of the chair and pushed Bruce into it, giving him a fond pat on the head before turning to Jeremiah.

"As for you brother, I guess I'll need to make more room." Quick as lightning, Jerome drew his gun and shot Gloria Bainbridge, pushing her body off of her chair as well. "Why don't you have a seat?"

Jeremiah sat reluctantly, glaring into his twin's eyes. Jerome just continued to laugh, and then turned to address his audience once more.

"I could go on and on about how he was always mommy and daddy's favorite, how he lived a pampered life while I slaved away in the circus, and how everyone who met the little tyke thought he was just an angel, but I'm not going to. My interest tonight, folks, is in what runs through his veins, not that oh so brilliant mind of his. Isn't that right brother? You and I've got the same blood. You're just as crazy as I am." Jerome laughed, poking Jeremiah and ruffling his hair.

"Leave him alone!" shouted Bruce, although he wasn't quite sure what made him do it.

"And Gotham's prince has gone all soft for you! Isn't that adorable?" the maniac continued.

Bruce stated snootily, "It's nothing like that, Jerome. I'm just disappointed you're wasting my time gushing about your brother. If I wanted to hear a poorly written memoir, I'd read the newspaper more often."

"See this is why I like this kid so much. Always speaks his mind. Although the last time we spoke, you were sayin' much prettier things." At Jerome's words, Bruce unconsciously blushed, remembering their most recent encounter after he'd confronted Jerome at his uncle's diner.

Bruce had just saved Jerome from his abusive uncle. Helping the psycho had been the last thing he'd expected himself to do that night, but he couldn't stand by and watch as the teenager's own relative tormented him. It was just a reminder of why Jerome had turned to killing in the first place. It infuriated Bruce. If these people had just treated their own blood with more love and compassion, so many lives would be saved...not to mention Jerome wouldn't be so broken emotionally. And so Bruce had attacked the older man, defending someone who'd attempted to take his life more than once. Jerome looked on with shock, finally coming to his senses enough to take out the other man behind him.

He wasn't going to lie. Bruce was glad for an opportunity to practice all of the combat he'd been learning. And the results didn't disappoint him. Although the man was much larger than him, he was also slower. Using one of the first tactics Alfred had taught him, he simply outmaneuvered him until the man grew tired, and then used a swift uppercut to his jaw to knock him out.

Jerome had finished with his uncle's accomplice and simply watched as Bruce brought down Zachary. "Damn kid, I didn't know you had that in you." praised Jerome, kicking the fallen guy for good measure.

"Don't let this confuse you. I didn't come here with the intention of saving your skin, so I wouldn't get too comfortable yet."

"I would never. You're so terrifying, I think I would've just stood here and cowered anyways. I mean, honestly, what's more frightening than a 5'2" preteen with daddy issues?" teased Jerome, striding over to the diner's counter. He rummaged for something to eat, finally settling on a bag of pretzels.

"Hey! I'll have you know that I'm 5'9" and I'm sixteen years old. I'm not a little kid, so there's no need to treat me like one." Bruce exclaimed indignantly.

"Sure midget, I'll take your word for it." Jerome continued to snack on the pretzels he'd found, eventually offering them out to Bruce.

"Are you kidding me? I came here to take you back to Arkham, not have a heart-to-heart."

"Dude, relax. Have a pretzel. It's good to take the little moments in life every once in a while. You have a stick shoved way too far up your ass to be any fun, so we're going to need to work on that a bit."

Bruce reluctantly reached for the bag, taking a pretzel and biting into it. He immediately spit it out. "Those are incredibly stale."

"I know." laughed Jerome, popping another one into his mouth.

Bruce stared at him in bewilderment. "Then why are you still eating them?"

The red-haired teen shrugged and said, "Being in Arkham for as long as I have really gives you an appreciation for decent food, or really any food. So stale pretzels? Easily a five-star meal in my book. Besides, it's the first thing I've eaten in awhile. The life of a psychotic genius who also happens to be an excellent cult leader barely leaves room for dinnertime. I'm surprised you haven't skiddadled on home to a warm gourmet meal prepared by your beloved butler."

"Actually I've been living on the streets. I want to understand Gotham better, and the only way to do that is to put myself in the midst of all it's ugliness." As soon as Bruce deduced that the psychopath wasn't trying to kill him, he decided it was alright to cautiously sit on the counter next to him.

"That's cute. Shame you'll be dead before Christmas, I was planning on getting you a pony."

"Haha, very funny. Don't you have somewhere better to be?

"Are you suggesting that the highlight of my day isn't a scintillating conversation with a child? Don't act like you know me Bruce. Maybe this is exactly what I wanted." Jerome looked sideways at the boy across from him, gauging his reaction.

"Once again, you always tell the best jokes." laughed Bruce, although Jerome's comment made him uneasy. Had he really intended for Bruce to be there? That's crazy, he thought. Then again, Jerome is crazy, so it really wasn't all that far-fetched.

"Well this has been fun, Brucie, but I've really gotta run. People to see, headmasters to explode. You know how it is. I'll see ya around." And with that, Jerome fondly ruffled his hair and leapt off the counter, picking his knife up from the floor as he went. "We should do this again sometime!" he cackled as he disappeared through the diner's exit.

"Wait!" yelled Bruce. That little shit. He'd been distracting Bruce from his goal the whole time. And yet, he couldn't help but reach up and feel his hair where Jerome had touched it. Stop being such a dewy-eyed moron, Bruce told himself, rolling his eyes.

But, it felt like things had somehow changed between the two of them. Instead of this relentless game of cat and mouse, it all of a sudden seemed like the playing field had leveled a bit. The disappearance of Jerome's presence made the room feel cold, and only then did his comment of "...headmasters to explode" really sink into Bruce's mind. With a jolt of fear, he knelt to wake and interrogate Zachary Trumble, who gave him the address as to where Jerome might be headed.

The snapping of Jerome's fingers brought Bruce out of his memory. "Hello? Earth to Brucie? We've sorta got a bit of an event goin' on here, and it's a rather rude time to be taking a nap. I swear, teenagers. You put all of this effort into something you think they're gonna like, you even plan it as a surprise, and they take a fucking nap like it's no big deal. This really isn't helping your case as to whether or not I'm going to blow your skulls sky high."

Bruce turned his head to look at Jeremiah, only to lock eyes with him and see the fear and worry fermenting that. He shook his head slightly to tell Jeremiah not to be afraid, and that he was okay. The other man smiled slightly in return, silently thanking him.

"Jeez, you two flirt more than a fourteen year old girl who just got her first boyfriend. It's slightly nauseating to watch, if I'm being honest." remarked Jerome.

Knowing that denying Jerome's accusations would only further confirm them in his mind, Bruce instead said "At least I don't try and force myself on anything that moves. It's crazy, you'd do a lamp if it found you tolerable enough. But we can just chalk that up to being constantly rejected by mommy, daddy, and I bet several circus boys too, just one too many times, right?"

Jerome didn't like that. Not a single bit of it. And Bruce knew he'd gone too far as soon as the smile on the maniac's face dropped.

"You think you're so clever, don't ya? I have a feeling you'd be a little less cocky without that arrogant smirk all over your face. In fact, I think we should test my little theory. Whaddya say boys?" asked Jerome to his followers, his arms open. They laughed their assent, and Jerome reached for his favorite pocket knife. "Seems like the votes are in, Brucie. It's a shame, really. I always liked that charming smile of yours." His was gripping Bruce's face now, diminishing his efforts to struggle and turn away. "You could just apologize." Jerome whispered silkily so only he could hear him. "Just say, 'I'm sorry Jerome, I won't talk back again.' and be a good boy. Then you can smile all you want."

Absolutely not. Bruce's ego screamed at him not to do so. But reason started to battle with his pride. Was getting his face permanently scarred physically worth saving face metaphorically? Not to mention that it'd hurt like hell. And he knew that Jerome wasn't bluffing. He'd really do it. No, he decided, it wasn't worth it.

He looked at Jerome stonily. "I'm sorry, Jerome. I won't talk back again."

Jerome snarled and lifted the gleaming blade up to Bruce's cheek. "Say it like you mean it!"

"I-I'm sorry, J-Jerome...I w-won't talk back a-again." Bruce whispered, humiliated with every fibre of his being.

Jerome was grinning widely. "Was that so hard, little prince?" He cackled, turning back to the stage. "Well then, now we can get the evening's festivities underway."

He was just beginning to strike the band back up when James Gordon made the call to evacuate the crowd. The people gladly began to flee, causing Jerome to fire blindly into the torrents of people. "I guess they figured out my plan," Jerome mused mildly to Jeremiah and Bruce. "It's a shame, but no matter. I just wanted things to go well for a bit of dramatic flair. So I guess this is my cue to escape before Jimbo shoots my insides out, huh? Well, it's been nice, you two. And don't worry, I'll still have the last laugh." And with that, the red-haired prophet jumped off of the side of the stage and ran to a near alleyway, leaving Jeremiah and Bruce tied to their chairs.