The Madness Within- Jeremiah Valeska

Black Coffee, Two Sugars

When Clarissa opened her eyes, she was handcuffed to a large board, her wrists tightly bound and her ankles separated. The metal was in the strange middle zone between cold and warm, but either way, she was uncomfortable. Rolling her head to loosen up her neck, Clarissa realized that Jeremiah was standing not too far away, his bruised face suspicious as he looked out between the bars of a cage, at where Alfred was glaring at him, with Jim Gordon himself directing those around him.

"Pardon me, Jim," said Jeremiah calmly, causing people around the room to pause, and mutter indistinctly to one another. Jim's face grew hard, and he turned to face his colleagues.

"Don't you all have work to do?''

He came close to the bars, glaring at  Jeremiah, his eyes flickering to Clarissa for a moment before he spoke.

"What is it?"

Jeremiah smiled very slightly, and it was almost unnoticeable.

"I'd like to press charges against Bruce Wayne's butler. I mean, just look at my face."

"I think you look great," sneered Jim, and made to turn away but Jeremiah continued. 

"And I'd like to speak with Bruce again. We couldn't really talk before, what with his girlfriend bleeding out all over him."

Jim ignored the statement and grabbed the bars, spitting his words into Jeremiah's face.

"You tried to prove your better than your brother. You corrupted an innocent girl. But I'm still here, the city's still here. You're a failure, Jeremiah."

"No," said Clarissa. 

Both Jeremiah and Jim turned to look her Clarissa, who kicked off one of the restraints on her ankles, which was surprisingly weak, before giving up taking the rest off. They cut her skin, and moving made it worse. 

"He's not a failure. And if you bring Brucie out for a chat we'll tell you where the bombs are."

Jim snorted.

"We have all the bombs."

Jeremiah realized what Clarissa was trying to do, that she was trying to prove that the threat that he was, it was so beyond Jim's comprehension. He smiled as he spoke.

"The maze bombs, yes. My dear Clarissa means the other ones. Jim as an engineer you expect systems to fail, so you build in redundancies. And I am a  very good engineer."

"You're bluffing."

"Am I? How many lives are you willing to bet?"

He paused and looked back at Clarissa, who smiled brightly at him. She intended to patch him up as soon as they could escape. Perhaps Ecco, or Ra's Al Ghul.

"You're right you know, I did fail. I...we didn't yet realize the vision we were servicing, but we do now. Our eyes are open, as yours will be."

"Grab Brucie for our little chat," added Clarissa.

"Once you realize that we're not bluffing. And I'd like a coffee, black with two sugars. And somebody untie my darling Clarissa."

-----------------------------

"What an incredible girl you've got there, Jerome. Though it's a shame that you must keep our little secret from her."

Jerome laughed sourly as he faced the tall woman, rolling his eyes as she held a glass of deep red wine to her lips. Lila Valeska glared down at her son, eyes having trouble focusing in her drunken state. For the past hour, she'd been in bed with one of the clowns and had only just dragged herself out of the caravan to find where Jerome had gone. He's sent Clarissa back to her own caravan, where no doubt she'd have begun to practice her tricks. 

"Our secret is out. You're a drunken whore, everybody knows it."

Lila swore slightly and drained her glass, reaching for the bottle that was probably still in her room. Jerome dodged her as she made to strike him, and ran backwards, crashing into someone. One of the technicians stared down at Jerome, and Lila stumbled towards him. He ducked and scattered from his drunken mother and her next fling, making his way to Clarissa's caravan. The door was locked, as usual, so he knocked four times and waited. Clarissa looked out at him from the window of the caravan. Seeing it was Jerome, she rushed to the door and opened it. 

"Hey Jerome."

"Heya dollface. May I come in?"

She backed away, nodding, and Jerome stepped up into her home. Clarissa's caravan was small, made up of three rooms. A combined kitchen, dining and living room, with the couch set into one wall with a small mounted TV, a dining nook attached to the kitchen counter and a small fridge, stove and oven in a small pale kitchen. Everything was clean apart from a messy yet beautiful painting across the wall behind the microwave. The small pantry was open, showing packets of noodles and bottles of various juice. Jerome could count the tins of fruit on one of the shelves. The bathroom door was open, the grey tiles clean and sparkling. The shower, dripping slowly made Jerome assume that Clarissa had changed back into her black shirt and jeans after a shower.

The bedroom, which was only large enough for a bed and chest of drawers, was the only messy part of the caravan, with magic tools and outfits strewn over the floor and bed. 

"You ok?" asked Clarissa, and Jerome shrugged. He'd just turned fourteen, and each year he'd been becoming more and more resentful towards his mother. Every day, if Jerome wasn't being beaten they would spend their time together. 

"I need a drink. Coffee?"

"Think so."

Jerome made his way to the kitchen and moved a few tins around until he found the jar of coffee."

"Do you have sugar?"

"Always. Top shelf."

Jerome smirked and grabbed the sugar.

"I perfected that card trick, which is good,'' said Clarissa, attempted to make small talk as Jerome poured out a decent amount of boiling water into a mug.

"Nice, dollface. Proud of ya."

She laughed and fell back onto the couch to wait for him. Once he had his coffee, Jerome sat beside her with an arm around her shoulders as they channel surfed. Jim Gordon popped up a few times, talking about some crime or another. Jerome shook his head.

"Never liked him, Gordon."

"Same."

Jerome leant his head against Clarissa's shoulder for a moment, and then took a sip. 

"Perfect. Like yaself."

She huffed a laugh, then caught Jerome's thoughtful expression.

"What?"

"Ya know, dollface. We're like sugar. Two sugars, in a black coffee."

"How?"

"We're sweet. And we're stuck in an awful life."

"I doubt you're that sweet, Jerome, but I see your point."

"Well, I'm sweet on you," he replied.

"True."

Author's Note.

Hey guys, sorry it's been a while. Updates might be slower cause school has been chaotic and stressful. But the story is still going. Thanks so much for your support! I love all of you.

StoryBat129