Mama
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Selina and Jerome run silently through the poorly-lit streets of the Narrows in perfect tandem, hooded shadows in the darkness. They pause for air when they reach the roof of a small, three-story building. The area is barely illuminated, the only light coming from surrounding buildings and the cloud-covered moon.
"We should hurry," Jerome says lowly, searching the empty streets below. He pulls the edge of his hood forward, masking his face. "Butch can't act his way out of a paper bag."
"You aren't wrong," Selina replies, pushing a pair of goggles up from her eyes into her unruly crown of curls, "Especially if he's trying to do an accent. The target can't be that stupid."
"He might be. Crossing Fish is a death sentence," Jerome mutters darkly, his naturally coarse voice making the statement even more ominous. He breaks out into a huge smile and sighs dreamily, remembering the gruesome way Fish dealt with a different man who'd dodged his owed payments. They call him the Six-Fingered Man now, but not because of a genetic surplus.
Lights are disappearing from the neighboring building windows now, as if the occupants know Fish Mooney's most dangerous enforcers are nearby.
"Guess we'll find out," she says simply as the last light is extinguished, leaving the pair in the soft gloom of the night. Selina breathes out contentedly, happy to lurk in the shadows. The darkness has proved to be her best environment; anywhere else she feels out of place.
A sudden nearby shriek breaks her quiet reverie. Selina chooses to ignore it, knowing the occasional shout is a familiar sound this time of night and figuring whomever-it-is deserves whatever-it-is they're getting for stupidly being outside in the first place. She looks to Jerome and instantly sees the gears turning in his twisted head as his mouth stretches into an evil grin.
"You know… we have to go in that direction anyways," he says slowly.
She crosses her arms. "What? You didn't get your daily dose of gore yet?"
Jerome holds up his hands in surrender. "I'm just not one to pass up free entertainment!"
"What happened to 'we should hurry'?" she asks skeptically, making quotation marks in the air.
"Oh, the ol' lunk can take care of himself for another couple'a minutes," he dismisses, staring eagerly off into the night as another wild shriek echoes across the city. "Com'on, Cat. Let's have some fun," Jerome says, a pleading tone in his otherwise dark voice. Her eyes narrow in irritation, certain that his definition of fun is far from hers. But before she can respond, he's jumped to the next rooftop, sprinting off in the direction of the commotion and laughing maniacally.
She sighs and reluctantly runs after him, resenting Fish more and more for making her babysit him on this already damned mission.
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He immediately recognizes the men and women below as members of the Maniax, the secret group of radical psychopaths who enjoy causing mayhem around the city and dressing up like demonic clowns. His secret group that is certainly not supposed to be in Fish Mooney's territory. He pushes back from the edge of the roof and sits down, unable to look any longer.
Selina, however, is interested in the show. She feels a confusing combination of pity and annoyance for the two misplaced men about to experience Gotham's version of natural selection, but is surprised when the younger looking man easily blocks and kicks away one of the clowns. She glances back at her unwanted partner, similar feelings of pity and annoyance building up within her.
"Ya know, I hate to be that guy," Selina confesses as she turns back to watch the outnumbered confrontation, "but I think you might have outdone yourself this time."
He picks his head up from his knees, confused. "What?"
"Usually the people who betray Fish are already dead, so they don't have the chance to do it twice," she clarifies, her attention still stolen by the fight below.
"I have nothing to do with this! They're acting on their own," he snaps defensively, though his expression flickers worriedly.
It hadn't been his intention, but Jerome inadvertently became the founder/leader of the Maniax when he began hanging out at Celestial Gardens. The nightclub is known for its creepy atmosphere and spectacular live entertainment, so Jerome quickly found a second home in it. After one particularly long night of drinking, Jerome stole the microphone from a singer and began telling terrible jokes. When the singer objected, Jerome forced the singer to swallow the microphone. And although the singer was asphyxiating in front of the entire club, the audience was focused solely on Jerome, transfixed by his embodiment of everything they loved: humor, violence, excitement, and crime. Jeri, the owner of the club, asked him to perform there regularly and he eagerly agreed.
Months later, his fans became a cult following, willing to do whatever he said. They ran amuck around Gotham, shouting praises of Jerome's name, bloating his ego to planetary proportions. Unfortunately for Jerome, word of the Maniax traveled to Fish. She considered his forming the group a betrayal and punished him harshly; but not before demoting him from his high position within the mob and demanding he disband his following immediately. Despite the consequences Jerome couldn't give up the attention and adoration, at least not fully, so every so often he sneaks back to Celestial Gardens for Maniax meetings.
Apparently, his order to "stay low" has been ignored or forgotten, and now, after finally rising above dish duty at the restaurant to go on a real mission, his chances of getting back on Fish's good side are suddenly in jeopardy because of it.
Jerome drops his face into his hands, breathing heavily. If they keep carrying on they'll draw the police. And if they draw the police into Fish's territory…
"Fish is going to gut you," Selina tells him squarely, finally looking away from the fight, "The street runners are already making their rounds."
"I know," Jerome says darkly, peering up at her. Another moment passes as they look at each other.
"Well? Don't just sit there like an idiot on a log," she huffs, folding her arms across her chest, "Butch is still waiting for us."
"NO!" He scrambles to his knees, panic tightly wedged in his throat. "We have to get rid of them," he says frantically, "Fish will kill me!"
Selina pretends to mull this over.
"PLEASE!" he shouts, and she hates him for being so unpredictable. One minute he's acting serious about the mission, and the next he's sobbing like a scolded toddler.
"What do you suggest?" she snaps, endlessly resenting Fish's decision to let him tag along with her.
A few awkward seconds tick by, Selina glaring down at Jerome and Jerome glaring down at his restless hands. "Alright," he says finally, drumming his fingers together, "Let's just—and hear me out! …Let's just kill them all."
"Are you serious?" Selina responds dryly. The chaotic sounds of the fight drift up from the alleyway and she vaguely wonders who's winning.
"Hmm… you're right," Jerome says thoughtfully, "This is a new coat." He jumps to his feet and walks toward the edge, but Selina blocks him.
"What're you doing?" she demands, stepping back from his towering form and eyeing him speculatively.
"I'm just gonna go talk to them," he explains, rolling his eyes as if the answer was obvious, "I'm their—I mean, I was their leader for a reason."
Selina folds her arms, not missing his slip. "Right," she says, her tone laced with doubt, "And what if that doesn't work?"
Jerome makes a startlingly loud noise, somewhere between a growl and a groan. "Too! Much! Thinking!" he bawls, raking his fingers through his hair.
"Shut up!" she snarls, suddenly wary that all his noise may be attracting unwanted Maniax attention from below.
His normally pale face is stained red with frustrated anger as he glowers back at her. "Screw this. I'm just going to kill them all," he says as evenly as he can, his raspy voice still wavering a little. He reaches for his sword and strides forward.
"Jerome!" she hisses, pushing against his chest to prevent him from shoving past her, "Can you think for one second? I'd like to avoid a bloodbath if possible. Just le'me go down there first, maybe scare 'em off."
The anger drains immediately from his features as he bursts into cackling laughter, a reminder of his volatile temperament. "Y-you?" he stammers.
Selina's eyes narrow. "Yes, me. Is that funny?"
He continues to laugh, now clutching his stomach, "Funny? That's a god damn riot! You're about as scary as my nan's knickers!" His face drops a little as he considers his statement. "Wait a minute, that's pretty scary too."
Her mouth hinges open with indignation. She isn't scary? Coming from the kid with cartoons on his underwear? "Know what? Screw you. Deal with them yourself," she seethes, striding away from him. Damn him, damn this mission, and damn Fish Mooney for making her babysit him in the first place.
And as much as she wants to leave him to deal with his own mess, she stops her abrupt march when he calls after her.
"Wait!"
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The combination of the full moon and the menacingly tall iron-wrought fence creates long jagged shadows across the graveyard's craggy terrain. Wispy black clouds stretch tightly across the night sky, causing a beautifully dreary scene above the muggy Gotham Cemetery. While it's normally a noiseless, peaceful place where only the already-dead reside, tonight the graveyard is alive with lights, gunshots, and blood-curdling cries of agony.
Several of Butch's men lay dead or wounded in the middle of the courtyard, alongside several of the target's men. He and his remaining henchmen crouch behind various headstones, pinning them down with seemingly unending ammo.
"Give Fish a message for me!" their target shouts arrogantly from behind a tall gravestone, waving his pistol in the air, "Tell her I say her product was an assault on my senses and she owes me and my buyers for even trying the mediocre crap!" His average featured-face twists into a haughty grin, and Butch decides that his generic features fit his anonymous status well.
"You can tell her yourself once we bring you in! Or at least, most of you in!" Butch yells back in reply, causing the opposing gunfire to double.
Selina and Jerome had walked into the gunfight late and were forced to hide together behind a stone sarcophagus, but the beauty of the detailed sculpture and ancient script goes unnoticed as bullets explode dangerously close to them.
"Nice of you to join the party!" Butch shouts to the pair from behind a bullet-ridden mausoleum, his voice garbled under the crackling gunfire.
"You used the accent, didn't you?" Jerome yells back, grinning despite their situation.
Butch scowls back at him. "Screw you! That accent was gold!" He ducks out of hiding to return fire.
"And they say my jokes are bad," Jerome chuckles, nudging Selina's side. She stares blankly ahead, not even a flicker of acknowledgment passing over her still features. His grin drops. Although he knows she can sit through uneventful overnight surveillance with relentless concentration, he suspects that somehow Selina Kyle, espionage expert, is distracted from the butt-kicking task at hand. And that's just strange.
"Hey! Hellllloooo?" Jerome nags, "Anybody home?" Other than letting her eyes flutter closed, she doesn't react. He reaches to touch her shoulder, but yelps in surprise when her gloved hand snaps around his wrist. His eyes travel past her slender fingers to her tense, narrowed glare and he chuckles, amused.
"Welcome back," he snorts.
"I was thinking," she tells him through clenched teeth.
"You don't need to fantasize about me when I'm right here," he teases, again trying to touch her shoulder.
She swats him away and rolls her eyes. "Fat chance. I was counting bullets."
"Who needs that math mumbo-jumbo when you're a badass ninja warrior-" he grins and pulls a throwing star from his pocket "-like me."
"Are you serious?" she scoffs.
"Serious as a dead man," Jerome replies, his rusty voice threatening. He whips the throwing star over their heads and waits for a shriek, but is disappointed when a few moments pass by undisturbed. Popping out of cover, he somewhat successfully chucks a few throwing knifes at their enemies instead.
Selina shakes her head, trying to escape the haze that surrounds her mind. Counting bullets was a good excuse for her poor presence, but her thoughts were far from the battle. Instead, they buzz with the memory of the moronic men she'd inadvertently saved earlier in the evening. She had recognized them both, but from what she has no idea. The image of the younger man unabashedly hunting her face and body, mirroring her own actions exactly, is imprinted in the front of her mind. Clearly he recognized her in some capacity too. She can feel a headache developing as she searches her memory for the answer.
"Selina!" Butch's voice breaks her trance. She looks up to see that Butch, Jerome, and Butch's men had left cover and are fighting hand-to-hand with the target's henchmen. Her face scrunches in wonder. How in God's name had she not noticed?
"Get him!" Butch screams as he crushes a man's neck with his good hand, using his massive metal hand to gesture across the dark field of tombstones to the tall, dark-haired man sprinting away. The target.
Selina hastily glances around before launching after him, because although she may be part of a team, self-preservation has been and will always be her first priority. But as her feet carry her swiftly between the jagged headstones, it occurs to her that one wouldn't be running through an active warzone against their better judgement if self-preservation were their only priority. Loyalty has been both the best and worst thing in her life; it runs through her blood like acid.
She catches up to the panting man quickly, and in one fluid movement she pulls out her whip and catches his ankle in its snare. A cloud of dirt and dust erupt around them as he hits the ground hard, skidding to a stop just in front of a modest grave marker. She stands over him, arms crossed.
"I-I can get your money right now!" the man stammers, guarding his face behind his raised arm, the length of which is now stained with dirt.
"You're going to," Selina bites, annoyed that he thinks offering to pay is an option. "But first," she begins slowly, drawing a sleek silver knife from its sheath on her hip, "are you a righty or a lefty?"
The man visibly pales, his eyes growing wider and wilder as he begins to tremble. "No, no, please. I'm… I-I'm not either!"
"So what you're saying is, it doesn't matter which one I choose," Selina says casually.
"Er, I mean, I'm ambitious. I mean, ambidextrous. I need them b-both."
"No, that means it doesn't matter which one I choose," she says, inspecting the blade of her small dagger.
"Oh please! Oh no!" he bawls, holding both hands as close to his chest as he can. Selina shakes her head at the pathetic man.
"Look buddy, just pick a hand and let's make this quick," she advises, planting her free hand on her jutting hip.
As she watches the pitiful man begging from his knees with snot seeping down his lips and chin, she finds her impatience with the evening growing exponentially. She can feel the blood sizzling beneath her skin as the nuisances of the night replay in her head, and suddenly the picture of the familiar young man comes to mind. An entirely new feeling of agitation appears in her mind as she pictures the two dopey men wearing their Sunday best in a Narrows alleyway. She sees the crimson blood leaking around the man's teeth as he retracts his hand from hers, looking offended that she'd ripped herself away from him. Who could possibly be that naïve? And why does she remember him? She feels dizzy and confused, like the time she washed down a pain pill with a glass of one of Ivy's unidentifiable purple liquors. I told you it was experimental, Selina, she hears Ivy's lilting voice scold in her head.
The next few moments seem to happen in slow motion, starting with the dull crack of a heavy rock colliding with the top of her skull. Suddenly everything is too bright to see, and there's a soft, high pitched squeal in her ear. An earthy aroma envelopes her as white-hot pain settles over her head. The brightness fades from her vision and something tickles her face. Grass. She forces her eyes open. The bleary, sideways sight of the target and one of his henchmen clumsily hopping the iron-wrought fence maddens her, but her limbs don't respond to her commands. Run! Get up! Move!
Selina thinks someone is yelling, but it's as clear as if she were underwater. As the target disappears from her sight and the muddled voice becomes louder, she slips into unconsciousness.
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A half-full glass teacup shatters against the wall, instantly staining the red wallpaper brown. The thrower, Fish Mooney, furiously turns on the unlucky trio before her. "What do you mean he got away?" she demands. They had entered the large office beneath the popular Gotham restaurant, The Fish Bowl, just as Fish was having her "stress-relieving" cup of tea, a nightly ritual of hers.
Butch shrugs. "Sorry, boss. The dream team over here didn't deliver."
"If by 'didn't deliver' you mean saved your lives, then yeah, we didn't deliver," Selina says sourly. She leans against the wall holding an ice-pack against her aching head, looking miserable and embarrassed. Jerome stands stiffly next to her, jaw tense. His pale face and new coat are hidden beneath a thick smattering of dark blood, resembling a child who'd gotten carried away with finger-painting. However, he doesn't appear to be injured.
"Honey, it didn't look like you were saving my life while I was carrying your unconscious ass across Gotham," Butch objects, smirking.
"Let's talk straight," Fish says crisply, drawing in close to Selina and Jerome. She places a hand firmly on each of their shoulders, her intricate blue nails digging through their jackets into their skin. "Tell mama what happened."
Jerome wriggles under her touch, the dried blood pulling his skin uncomfortably. He hadn't been as anxious when Selina was unconscious, but now that she is awake and fully capable of mentioning their confrontation with the Maniax his heart throbs furiously in his ears. He was just recovering from his demotion, so the thought of returning to dish duty, or worse, makes his stomach churn.
Fish is still patiently waiting for an answer half a clock's worth of clicks later, knowing either Jerome or Selina will have to interrupt the silence sooner or later. The former finally breaks the tension.
"Selina let the target go," he says, using the same tone as if he were discussing the weather.
Selina seizes up with disbelief at the sound of her name. "Are-are you kidding me?" she stammers furiously, forgetting about her head pains as she pushes away from the wall to stand defiantly, "You're throwing me under the bus?"
He shrugs. "I'm not the one who screwed up the mission."
"ASSHOLE!" she bellows, leaping to attack him. Fish roughly pushes her back to the wall and any previous intention of her headache going away disappears. She lets out a pained moan and cradles her head in her hands, the pounding within drowning out Fish's next words.
"Butch, while tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumb get their stories straight, why don't you tell me what happened?"
Butch swallows back a nervous lump. "Well, boss, the guy didn't fall for our trap. He had hired guns and they tore us down. I lost Bernard, Cassian, and Verde, and most of the others are in the infirmary."
"And you disposed of their bodies?" she interrupts.
"Yeah, Strange came to pick 'em up," Butch replies uneasily, recalling his interaction with the terrifying doctor.
She makes a small sound of approval. "We'll have a memorial tomorrow. Now, go on," she encourages.
With more confidence than before, Butch picks up his story. "So finally, the dream team here showed up, late, and I sent Cat after the target. I hear squealing tires and run over the hill to see'er unconscious in the dirt and the target taking off down the road."
"Told'ja she screwed it up," Jerome sneers. Butch shoots him a glare.
"Meanwhile," Butch starts, "this little maniac went ahead and stabbed everyone with his idiotic sword while I was gone, so now we got no one to interrogate and we still don't have a name for the target."
"Cat was supposed to get him! We shouldn't have needed other hostages!" Jerome argues, the arrogant smile sliding off his face.
"As if that's an excuse," Selina snorts from across the room. "And I thought you said that was a new coat? You know, back up on that rooftop," she adds dangerously, indulging in a cruel smirk.
His eyes snap up to meet hers and is about to deny knowing what she's talking about, but Fish places her hand on his upper back, making him pause. "She's right," she says calmly. Too calmly. Jerome shrugs away nervously, but Fish adjusts her grip to the back of his collar and brings their faces close. "I'll deal with you later," she threatens lowly, and he doesn't miss the promising look in her eyes. Locked in a staring contest, Jerome finally closes his eyes and nearly falls when she drops the back of his blood-stained jacket.
Fish turns to address Selina. "You'll do good to explain yourself now. Don't worry, honey, I won't bite," her voice deceptively inviting.
Selina glances up from her perch against the wall, her anger with Jerome still seeping through her vessels and making her temple throb. She's glad she didn't mention the Maniax, though. Something to hold over his head later. "The guy had backup Butch didn't know about. They came up behind me, and hit me over the head," she tells Fish, thinking her answer is true enough.
Fish's eyes narrow as she suspiciously looks Selina up and down. "So you're saying that one of his oafish hired guns got the drop on you?"
"Yeah, well… people make mistakes!" Selina defends herself.
"Not my people!" Fish fires back angrily. Selina winces as her loud words ring through her already addled head, but silently stares back at her mentor with a hard look in her eyes. People make mistakes, she futilely reminds herself.
Fish looks to Jerome who is silently shaking his head "no" and she bares her teeth, her previous unstable anger flaring. "Do not lie to me!" she commands, raising her hand to strike.
Reflexively Selina's hand twitches for the dagger on her belt and suddenly her hand cracks against the wall, Fish's gouging nails searing her skin. Her ice-pack falls to the floor. "Don't you dare reach for your weapon when I'm talking to you," Fish orders, sweet breath hot against Selina's face. Fish's other hand comes to grasp her jaw, forcing Selina's gaze up, nails cutting into her skin. "Look at me," she hisses lowly, "and tell me the truth."
"It was his fault we were late," Selina says, her voice strangled, but Fish violently jostles her skull against the wall, her grip tightening. A pained moan escapes Selina's lips, but Fish pays no mind.
"I don't want to hear about him, I want to hear about you," Fish says warningly.
"I wasn't paying attention," Selina admits, but Fish waits for her to go on. Her face crumples with shame as she reveals, "I don't know what happened, I just like, blanked out, and he just got away."
The answer seems to finally satisfy Fish, because she loosens her hold on Selina and steps back, slowly nodding like she believes it but frowning like she doesn't. "He just got away, huh?" Fish repeats, tasting the explanation for herself.
"I told you, it was a mistake," Selina says, her eyelids pressed together in pain and anger.
"And I told you, little girl, that my people don't make mistakes," Fish counters harshly. "Now, I want you to go back out there and find him."
"Hang on Fish," Butch interrupts, hoping to mollify his boss, "I think she's got a serious concussion. I don't think-"
"You ain't here to think," Fish snaps, giving her second-in-command a stern look that dares him to protest. She points at Selina. "Don't you come back to my house without that money. You hear me?"
Selina can do nothing but nod obediently.
"Good," Fish confirms. The mess she had made earlier draws her attention. "Get someone to clean this up," she says to Butch, pointing to the still-dripping walls, "But first-" she tilts her head toward Jerome, "-take him to the cages."
The color drains from Jerome's ghostly face, making the sickening dark blood stains all the more vibrant. "No. No! Not the cages! PLEASE!" Jerome begs her as Butch reluctantly takes hold of his upper arm. "I'll be good, I promise!"
"A few days in there will do you some good," she says, holding her head a little higher as she speaks, "Maybe you'll remember not to get sent back after this time."
"Sorry, man," Butch says, leading him from the office.
"Don't let him take me, Fish! PLEASE!" Jerome wails, digging his heels into the laminate and thrashing against his captor. "MAMA!" he cries out, terror-stricken.
She ignores her title, and instead gathers some things from her desk, turning her back to her foster son completely. Butch and another of Butch's men who was standing in the hallway drag Jerome, screaming, to his prison.
Fish looks over her shoulder at her foster daughter and whispers, "Tick-tock, little cat." She walks from the room, heels clicking loudly, and shouts down the hall, "Oswald! Bring me more tea!"
Now alone in Fish's office, Selina allows herself to sink down to the floor, groping around for her ice-pack. She reflects on the evening's proceedings bitterly, starting with Jerome's idiot club, continuing with the confusing encounter with the tall, grey-eyed distraction, and finishing with her own shameful lack of attention when it mattered most. As she pushes the ice against her head, hissing at the action, she feels an extra stab of resentment for the young man who'd quickly woven himself into her thoughts. Relief only comes once she realizes the odds of seeing him again are slim to none, and the enticing prospect of forgetting him entirely comes to mind.
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Whew, long chapter! Hopefully not too crammed full of exposition…? I never know if I'm strong arming in details or not.
My inspiration for Fish comes from Gus Fring (Breaking Bad) because she's a drug dealer hiding in plain sight with her family-friendly restaurant The Fish Bowl, and also from Vee Parker (OITNB) because she uses/abuses the foster care system to find children to join her drug empire. Selina and Jerome were recruited at much earlier ages, and while they aren't technically her legal foster children anymore because they're both older, she still holds a matronly bond over them. I hope you liked this little twist! It'll make things complicated for literally everyone later on.
Anyways, I'd like to thank my reviewers Tallulah18, Safirefly, DR14, Serpentina Lynn, elilili, Deo Rusev, and UnicornButler, and everyone else who favorited, followed, and read. You guys are completely amazing! Next chapter is almost done so hopefully it won't be too long of a wait, so long as I can avoid rewriting everything again lol. Also, this is my first time writing present-tense, so if you've noticed any mistakes please let me know!
