"Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful." - Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
••• Flashback •••
Bird sat on her bed in Arkham Asylum, legs tucked up under herself as she flipped through a bridal magazine to kill time.
Time was all it seemed like she had in this place.
With a heavy sigh, she dropped her head back against the cement wall behind her.
Stay positive was what her lawyer told her, but places like Arkham Asylum killed every last ounce of hope a person could hang onto.
Shaking her head and trying not to go down the dark rabbit hole in her mind, she blinked and tried to focus her eyes back on the pages.
All the picture-perfect smiles.
A level of happiness she didn't even think was humanly possible but was somehow supposed to be her future.
A jolt of resentment shot through her as she thought about Harvey.
How he'd started dodging her calls; sopped coming to visit her.
She turned the page in the magazine, her eyes catching on her bare finger -one that should have been adorned with her engagement ring but she'd been forced to give up all her jewelry when she was admitted into the asylum.
Trade-in her clothes for the black and white striped uniforms the inmates wore.
Holding her hand out in front of her, she thought about how much she missed that stupid ring.
Or possibly more so missed what it represented, that she was loved, that someone willingly wanted to spend their life at her side.
Her head tilted to the side as she remembered how that same hand had looked after a fight they'd gotten into; when he'd taken her hand in his with a vice grip of strength.
How he'd nearly broken her bones that day.
Either didn't hear or chose not to listen to her pleas as she told him he was hurting her.
The varying shades of purples and blue her skin took on in the days after.
The ugly yellowish-brown tones they'd turned into weeks later when the bruises started to heal.
Hearing the familiar creak of the door to her room opening, Bird's posture stiffened.
Ready for a fight.
It was late, they were all supposed to be in bed already and there was no reason anyone should be coming into her room.
When she didn't see anyone, she laid the magazine down and scooted to the edge of her bed.
As silently as possible, she stood up.
Her bare feet padding lightly against the dusty floor as she moved apprehensively towards the open doorway.
"Boo!"
Jerome exclaimed, jumping into view with a laugh.
His excitement quickly dwindled when he didn't get the reaction he'd wanted out of her.
She didn't jump. Didn't flinch.
Instead, she asked in a whisper-yell, "What are you doing?"
"I have a surprise for you." Jerome bounced with energy. Bobbing with every word.
"I don't like surprises." Bird countered. Brow arched.
"Come on." He nodded towards the end of the hallway where there was a door leading to the service staircase. Staff only.
He walked.
Well, more like skipped towards the end of the hallway where the service door was propped open.
Bird took a couple of steps out into the hallway and looked around.
The guards weren't at their usual posts.
Aside from the usual screams and inmates speaking in tongues that echoed through the hallway; it was almost eerily silent.
Against her better judgment, Bird started to walk towards where Jerome was waiting for her by the door.
She started to ask again what he was planning but knew it would be useless.
He wasn't going to tell her.
"After you ma' lady." He smiled mischievously and motioned with an arm for her to go in first.
Beyond the point of arguing with him -and also extremely curious about what was going on, Bird walked through the door.
There was a thick pad of sticky paper notes between the door and the frame, making sure to keep it open just enough the latch wouldn't catch.
She took one last look at the empty nurse's desk before walking through the door.
In silence, the pair walked past a few janitorial closets in the short hallway just before the top of the stairs.
Bird descended the stairs first.
The grime on the floor sticking to the bare soles of her feet.
Collecting more with each step.
She stopped just at the bottom of the stairs and looked around the room with a confused expression; until she heard a noise to the left.
She whipped her head around to look in that direction. Alert.
Ears tuning in as her eyes adjusted more to the dim, orange lighting in the room.
Her eyes cut towards Jerome for an explanation, but his only response was moving his fingers across his lips -zipping his mouth shut.
A secret.
More apprehensive than she had been minutes before, Bird walked towards the direction of the sound.
A low whimper.
Bird's advance came to an abrupt halt when she spotted the source of the noises.
The guard she'd been having trouble with since her first day there.
They'd been in school together and apparently, he'd been holding a grudge.
Accusing Bird of being stuck up, always acting too good for him.
Loony Bird, he'd taken to taunting her in the asylum.
Along with making several pointed threats about how she should watch herself, that no one in Arkham cares if they hear a woman screaming in the night.
He'd never tried to follow through on the threats, but she got sick to her stomach every single time he got near her.
"Ta-da!"
Jerome vibrated with excitement.
"What the hell is this?"
Bird didn't take her sight off of the guard.
His eyes were red-rimmed.
Snot dripping from his nose over the silver duct tape silencing his pleas for help.
Arms tied behind the back of the chair he was in; ankles bound to the legs of the chair.
Displaying a knife Jerome answered, "A present-"
But she cut him off, "I don't want it."
Jerome laughed.
That was a lie if he'd ever heard one.
Just like every time Bird tried to maintain that she's not that person anymore. Not the person who could take a life without blinking.
"Look..." She breathed, her tongue running over her dry lips, "I don't know what you and Sionis are planning, but I don't want any part of this."
Jerome's head cocked to the side. He tossed the knife up in the air and caught it without looking.
"You act like you've never killed anyone before." His tone was taunting.
"Of course I've killed before-" Her voice caught in her throat.
Normal, she reminded herself.
She was going to be normal and normal people don't get defensive when being accused of not having committed a homicide before.
"But-" She started, "I'm not that person anymore" They both finished in unison.
A glare of annoyance on her face at his mocking her.
Jerome's head lowered, he seemed nearly annoyed himself as he looked at her from under brows and reasoned, "Guy's got it coming."
"I see the way you tense when he comes around..." He continued, "The reason you sit with Sionis in the cafeteria. Not for his money or influence... nah, you got plenty of your own. But he's running this place from the inside and you need something else."
Pointing the knife towards the trembling guard, Jerome looked down the slant of the blade -lining up his sight like a scope, "Protection." He finished.
Bird bit down on the side of her tongue. Teeth drawing blood and turning her mouth to copper.
He was right.
She hated it to her core and wouldn't admit it out loud but Jerome was right.
It wasn't like she hadn't thought of handling the guard situation on her own, but it was too risky.
If she had any chance of making it out of the asylum and living a normal life she had to play by the rules; not get caught up in anything while she was still on the inside.
Richard Sionis had more sway than anyone else in Arkham and he wanted Bird around him. He'd ramble on about her darkness. Calling her a savage at one point.
Quoting Shakespeare about her being the serpent under the flower.
For protection from the guards -namely the one currently restrained to the chair in front of her, she'd gotten on friendly terms with the disgraced corporate tycoon.
"Come on!" Jerome bounced as he spoke, "You know you wanna!"
"I don't want any part of this." She maintained.
It was a lie.
She wanted him dead.
The absolute certainty that he'd never get the chance to follow through on any of his threats.
"Bird-"
He started to argue.
"No!" She raised her voice. She shook her head to match her words. Messy brunette waves slapping against her flushed cheeks.
Her fingers curled into her palms at her sides.
Eyes going from the sharp blade to the helpless, crying man.
She tucked her hair behind her ears. Smoothed the sides of her dress down.
Like if she didn't keep her hands busy she just might accept the weapon.
"I don't want any part of this." She continued to argue, though she didn't make a single attempt to step away.
No effort to set the bound guard free.
Not even an attempt to stop Jerome as he moved in on his prey.
••• End of flashback •••
Bird struggled against the ropes she'd been bound to the chair with, every breath she pulled in sucked the cloth bag over her face into her nose and mouth.
Her blocked airways ached for oxygen and her head was pounding.
A gust of air blew over the river and through the Boardwalk Circus just as someone jerked the bag off of her head.
She looked around, painted faces she didn't recognize surrounded her.
She craned her neck to see around them, catching glimpses of carnival rides and bright lights.
The sounds of screaming seemed to take up all the open space around them.
The cold night air carrying the metallic scent of blood with every gust.
"Ah! You're awake!" A man she didn't know said as he leaned in, his face only inches from hers.
Before she had time to respond he spun the chair she was in around until she faced her own reflection in a mirror at a face painting booth.
"What the hell..." Bird breathed.
Her head was still pounding.
Her mind struggling to catch up with the chaos unfolding around her.
Pinning her eyes shut so hard she saw stars, she shook her head.
The last thing she remembered was Jerome taunting her about the time they spent together in Arkham, trying to convince her that they were very much the same on the inside.
With the way her head was throbbing like her brain had swelled up and was going to burst through bone at any second, she realized someone had to have knocked her out.
She couldn't remember if it was Jerome or one of his followers.
With a gasp of pain, her eyes snapped open and she jerked away from what was currently hurting her.
"Don't you worry," The man she didn't know said, "We'll get that cleaned right up for you."
She stared at their reflections in the mirror, unable to move away as he smeared the blood from her bleeding and bruised forehead down the side of her face with his fingers.
Humming to himself, he plucked a neon pink band-aid up from the table and stuck it over the broken skin -where it didn't even begin to cover the wound.
"Good as new!" He exclaimed.
Bird was still tied down to the chair, unable to fight back or move around much at all as someone else she didn't know stepped up and started to mix some paint with the blood on her face.
Adding a dark black triangle over a single eyebrow, pointing up towards her hairline with a dot on her forehead, and then added a painted heart shape on the tip of her nose.
Someone else was lifting up random sections of her hair, alternating between hairspray and red spray-on dye.
By the time they were finished, she didn't even recognize herself, but that was the least of her concern when she caught the glint of something shiny and sharp and realized one of them had a knife.
A small one, but still big enough to do some damage -or even kill.
Her brain had hardly had time to process the immediate danger before the ropes fell away.
Looking down she felt over her body, thinking for sure someone had stabbed or cut her and she'd been too out of it to realize, but she didn't find any injuries.
"Ta-da!" The one who'd been working on her hair said as he motioned with his arm for her to get up.
But Bird didn't move from the seat.
It was too easy. A trap for sure.
"That's it?" She asked, "You're just going to let me go?"
Acting as though he didn't hear her, the man yelled out, "Next!"
Growing more confused than ever, Bird stood up, swaying in the cold air and spinning around in a slow circle while someone else sat down in the seat she'd been in.
She saw a man running, screaming in terror as a woman with a blood-soaked dress chased him through the circus with a machete in her hand.
Someone was dangling from the edge of the seat on the moving Ferris Wheel.
The carnival game booths were doubling as various forms of torture rooms; people tied up and getting darts or heavy balls thrown at them.
Bird started a stumbling, dizzy walk through the crowd.
She'd seen a lot of things in her life but she'd never seen anything near the likes of this devil's playground.
Absolute utter madness.
Coming to a stop, she stared at where the carousel was spinning.
People tied to the poles or being held at gunpoint.
It wasn't much further down the boardwalk that she was brought to another halt at spotting a particularly barbaric version of whack-a-mole where people were forced to poke their heads out and risk being hit with a sledgehammer.
Ever since Jim had killed Mario and things grew increasingly strained between herself and Oswald, she'd been dissociating more.
Some days she held it together and others she found she was losing time from it.
Being inside of her head and heart hurt too much -to the point she'd started staying there less and less.
At this point, she wasn't even sure if what she was seeing was real or some bad trip.
She looked around the crowd again, perhaps Tetch had shown up and dosed her with Red Queen once again.
Bird wandered around the hectic scene for a while longer, time had seemed to fade away and she felt like she was stuck in a weird time-loop.
Seeing one horrific thing after another.
Same torturous scenes with different faces playing the roles.
She had no idea how much time had passed before she made it back to where she'd started at the face-paint booths.
Bird had nearly resigned herself to thinking that nothing happening around her was real; that was until she spotted her brother.
Sitting in the very same chair she'd been bound to earlier in the night.
His face done up with black and white clown make-up and Jerome had just drawn an exaggerated frown over his mouth with another man's blood.
"Bruce!" Bird yelled as she started towards where Jerome was leading him away from the face-paint area.
"There she is!" Jerome loudly called out smiling widely at her.
The stapled-together skin on his face stretching and pulling so much he didn't look human.
"Starling!" Bruce saw his sister running towards him.
"You know she hates being called that, right?" Jerome said, a hand to the side of his mouth like he was spilling a secret.
"Bruce, oh my god!" Bird struggled to speak as she reached her younger brother, her hands grabbing onto his arms as she frantically asked, "Are you okay?"
Swallowing hard, Bruce's eyes started to glisten in the twinkling lights as he told her, "Alfred's dead."
"What?" The word left her with the force of a wrecking ball slamming into her and knocking every bit of air from her system.
Bruce nodded.
Leaning in closer she asked, "Did you see him die?"
Bruce's eyes traveled across his sister's painted face and up to the still bleeding wound on her forehead.
He shook his head back and forth.
"Then he's not dead." Bird asserted.
"No, you don't get it-"
He started to argue, but she cut him off.
"If you didn't see him die -he's not dead."
"Oh, he's dead!" Jerome announced as he butted his way in between the siblings and slung an arm over each of their shoulders.
Pulling them along with him, Jerome walked between the gates of the ride set-ups, marveling at the celebration that had been formed in his honor.
Quite the sight to behold if he did say so himself.
"Is there a plan for all of this madness?" Bruce asked; cringing as they passed the dart-throwing booth and he watched a woman get stabbed with a dart in her shoulder.
"These people don't want a plan. They want an excuse," Jerome said, "A husband who wants to stab his wife. A mother who wants to strangle her child... all they want is someone to tell them to do it. Kill them. It doesn't matter."
"Ooh, I love this game!" Jerome veered off from the group towards a dunk tank and his lackeys stepped up to grab onto both Bird and Bruce so they wouldn't escape.
"What are we going to do?" Bruce whisper-yelled to where his sister was being held beside him.
"I don't know." Bird admitted, "There are a lot more people here than I thought there would be..."
She turned her head and looked around them.
Leaning back over his direction she swore, "I'll find some way to get you out of here."
"What?" He breathed, doing a double-take at all the horrors around them, and protested, "No, we have to find some way to help them."
Spoken so simply as if his own life weren't the one on the line.
As if Jerome wasn't planning a huge event for the murder of Bruce Wayne.
"If you get the chance you need to run." Bird argued, "You can't help if anyone if you're dead."
Bruce shook his head in disbelief at her.
He couldn't help but notice how she didn't seem near as bothered by what was happening around them as he was.
Granted, he knew she'd seen a lot more than he had, but surely the horror movie unfolding around them would shake anyone to their core.
Bruce looked over just in time to see Jerome winding his arm up to throw a ball at the target and dunk a businessman in a large tank of ravenous flesh-eating fish.
"You won't get away with it." Bruce interrupted Jerome's focus.
"I already did. Now, shush. I need to concentrate."
Leaning to the side, Jerome pretended he was in a high-stakes baseball game and spit on the ground before starting to get into position again.
"A few dozen brainwashed maniacs can't keep the city hostage forever." Bruce cut in.
"Well, duh!" Jerome agreed with an eye-roll.
Bruce looked over at his sister for help but she was staring off at something in the distance.
He guessed probably trying to work out a plan to get him to safety instead of helping other people.
"Then what's the point?" Bruce pushed, interrupting Jerome right as he was about to throw the ball.
Doubling over with a sigh, Jerome let out a frustrated noise before spinning back around to face him, "The point is that all these people out here; looting, robbing, killing... are the people that pour your coffee. Wash your car, who take out your trash. And the moment the lights went out they showed their true faces."
"They showed how quickly they want to open up your rich boy veins and bathe in your blue blood, "Jerome continued, "That -is the point."
"That's not true," Bruce tugged out of the grip of the guy who had him by the arm and stepped closer to Jerome as he asserted, "There are good people in Gotham."
Jerome stared at him blankly for a moment before his face twisted up with amusement and he let out a laugh that was more of a wheeze.
"Like who?" He held his arms out to the sides, "The sheep who lock their doors and hide under their beds? Face it, kid. Gotham has no heroes."
Strolling over to where the target for the dunk tank was, Jerome started to press it with his hand seeing as how Bruce kept foiling his every attempt at target practice.
"You want to kill someone?" Bruce yelled, "Let's get on with it. Come on!"
He fought against the men who grabbed back onto him and tried to draw Jerome's attention to him and spare the life of the terrified businessman hovering a few feet above dangerous waters.
"You're so boring, Bruce!"
Jerome complained with a feigned yawn.
Without a second thought he reached out and smacked the target, dropping the platform out from under the man in the dunk tank.
Bruce screamed out for him to stop, but it was too late.
Within seconds the water turned red with blood, the fish feasting with such force the water swirled around.
Between the blood and chunks of flesh, the tank looked someone had thrown cherries in a blender.
Bruce looked back over at his sister, but Bird still seemed lost at taking in the surroundings.
Like she wasn't even there beside him.
"Yo!" Jerome motioned for one of his acolytes to bring him the staple gun he'd been using to keep stapling his face back on.
Bruce watched angrily as Jerome made some pained squeals while trying to reattach his own face.
With a jolt of attitude, Bruce taunted, "Did that hurt?"
"No much," Jerome's smile was sinister as he moved closer and grabbed onto the teenager's arm, "You try."
He said as he put the gun down and lodged a staple into his arm.
The move was so sudden Bruce hadn't had time to react or even process the pain.
It wasn't until Jerome moved the gun and started to put another staple further up that pain registered and even though he tried not to, he flinched at the second one.
The third was worse.
Intense, white-hot pain that nearly caused his legs to buckle.
Jerome stared him down, eyes locked and the staple gun was loaded and ready to go.
Bruce held his breath, trying to muster all of the strength he could manage to not show fear or pain in the face of the sadist causing it, but he knew the next staple would probably bring him to his knees.
Jerome started to lower the staple gun to Bruce's arm, eyes still locked on his, eagerly awaiting to teenagers crumble.
The click from the gun went off, but nothing happened..
Or so Bruce thought until he finally let out the air he'd been holding and looked down to see his sister's hand over his arm -thin trails of blood starting to run from the puncture wounds on the back of it.
He looked from her hand, up to her face, and then back down again.
She was back from wherever her mind had wandered moments before.
Moving the stapler up some, he put another staple in her wrist.
Bird didn't flinch.
With his free hand, Jerome put his palm against the center of Bruce's chest and pushed him back before he grabbed onto Bird's arm and jerked her closer to him like they were going to dance.
Bruce watched in horror as Jerome put another staple into Bird's arm, then another and another.
"Leave her alone!" He yelled out, but it was like neither of them heard him.
Both were locked in a power struggle, intensely staring the other one down.
Another click of the gun.
Another staple.
Jerome cocked his head to the side, his eyes bore into hers; the refusal to back down showing true in the deep brown hues.
Click.
Click.
"Stop!" Bruce screamed at the top of his lungs, forcing his way in between them as he pushed Jerome away from his sister and took a protective stance in front of her.
His mind was pulled back to the night of the magic show for the children's hospital benefit.
To how Jerome had her tied up on stage and hurt her to try and lure him out.
The way that even though Bird and Jerome were on a stage in front of people, it was like they were the only ones there.
Jerome wasn't going to stop and Bird wasn't going to show submission -even if it killed her.
With a stumbling step back from the force in which Bruce had shoved him, Jerome laughed and handed the gun back to his lackey.
Bruce grabbed onto his sister's arm, counting the staples and not understand how she was still even standing.
"I'm fine." She jerked her arm away from him.
Bruce looked up at her face and caught sight of the tremble from her bottom lip.
A tell. A giveaway that she was in far more pain than she was letting on.
"Alright, enough dilly-dally," Jerome took the hat he'd been wearing off, spun it in his hands, "Time for the main event!"
"What's the main event?" Bird questioned,even though she had a pretty good idea.
"Oh, I'm going to kill your brother."
Jerome answered her in the same tone one might remind someone about an appointment later in the day.
She'd been afraid that would be the answer.
"Oh?" Her brows raised, "Done with me so soon?"
Bruce's eyes jerked over towards Bird, silently asking what the hell she was doing.
But he already knew.
She was trying to buy time, not even for their joint escape, but for his.
"Well..." Jerome lowered his head and eyed her from under his brows while taking a large step closer, "What'd you have in mind?"
Bird bit down on the inside of her cheek, her eyes combing their surroundings for any ideas.
Seeing the game booths, she suggested, "Let's play a game."
With a laugh, he raised his hand and shook a finger at her, "You..."
His voice trailed off, "You just get me, you know?"
"Don't do this!" Bruce pleaded with his sister as he watched Jerome looking around trying to think up a game.
"When you get the chance. Run." Bird quietly said back.
"No." Bruce argued.
"Ah!" Jerome excitedly exclaimed when he had the perfect game in mind.
He waved a hand, calling one of his armed followers over and pulled a revolver from their jacket.
He opened the chamber of the gun to see all of the bullets were there.
"Thanks!" He appreciatively said the man whose gun he'd taken.
Then proceeded to empty all but one of the bullets into his chest.
Bruce stared down at the dead man on the ground in shock, which soon turned into one of the worst feelings of dread he'd ever felt at the realization of what kind of game was going to be played.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Jerome asked Bird.
He spun the chamber around before clicking it back into place. Leaving it up to fate and chance for who would take the bullet.
"After you," Bird held her ground.
"Ladies first." Jerome graciously said, spinning the revolver in his hand and offering it to Bird; the handle towards her.
"No, no, no-" Bruce yelled as he tried to get between them, but one of Jerome's people grabbed him and pulled him back.
"Shh!" Jerome hissed at him, "The adults are talking now, Brucey."
Rolling his eyes he looked back at Bird and complained, "Kids, am I right?"
"Russian Roulette?" Bird blew out a sigh, "That's the best you've got?"
Jerome laughed and tossed a wink her way, "You look a little nervous, gorgeous."
"Nope," Bird covered. Mentally commanding her hand not to shake as she reached out and took the gun from him, "Just bored."
"Starling!" Bruce struggled against the strong hands holding him back.
He pleaded for her to stop. To not play the game.
But when she didn't even look over his way, he was fairly certain she didn't even hear him.
Bird looked down to the gun in her hand and swallowed.
She could point the gun at Jerome's head and fire until the bullet finally showed itself and killed him.
That would certainly create a large amount of absolute chaos, but it would also cause everyone there to turn on her and Bruce.
Giving them exactly zero chance of escape.
Her best bet; their best chance at survival was time.
If Jim was still alive, which she refused to even let the possibility of him not be in her head, then he'd figure out they were at the Boardwalk.
He'd show up with the GCPD strike force and they could get Bruce out of there safely.
Time, she reminded herself, she just needed to buy them more time.
"You know this game works, right?" Jerome grew impatient at her stillness.
He made the shape of a gun with his hand and acted like he'd shot himself in the head; making a face with his tongue hanging out.
"I do," Bird nodded, "It's just... if one of us is going to die, we should get everything out in the open, don't you think?"
"Like..." Jerome pushed.
"Like..." Bird's mind raced, "I don't know... do you ever regret it? That you killed your mom?"
Jerome laughed, "Not for a second."
"The-" Jerome started and Bird joined in, "Bitch had it coming."
Their voices in unison.
Bird looked down to the gun still in her hands, "You can pretend with all of them."
She nodded to the group that had surrounded them, "But you don't fool me. This whole act of everything being a joke. That nothing matters. It's just that, an act."
"That's what you think?" Jerome took a single step closer. His expression equal parts intrigue and amusement.
"I think that it mattered when your mom beat the crap of you," Bird continued, "Or when your uncle scalded you with hot soup. I think the amount of pain you were in twisted something up inside of you."
His eyes narrowed.
"To where hurting things -hurting people was the only way you felt better." This time it was Bird who stepped closer, "I think that you have to have once cared a lot to get that mangled up in the first place."
Bruce stopped fighting against the grip of the men holding him back and looked between them, wondering exactly how much they'd talked when they were in Arkham together.
"Ha!" Jerome's voice boomed through the cold night air.
He tossed his head to the side with a thoughtful expression, "Yeah, okay... but I think you're afraid to pull that trigger-"
The end of his sentence was cut off by the empty click of the revolver and Bruce's scream as he watched his sister put the gun to her head and pull the trigger without another second of hesitation.
"You were saying?" Bird smirked.
Nothing like coming back from the possible brink of death to make you feel alive.
She passed the gun back to Jerome.
Trading truths. Right back to where they started.
"Okay," Jerome's eyes were brighter than the string lights all around them, "Maybe you got me there."
He put the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.
His smile grew at the empty click and he excused, "Chocked full of mommy issues."
"Aren't we all?"
Bird countered with a raised brow.
Knowing full well she'd played part in her own biological mother's death.
With a scratchy sounding chuckle, Jerome handed the gun back but didn't let go when she tried to take it.
"I told you mine," He wagered, "Show me yours."
"My mommy issues?"
It was Bird who laughed that time.
"Your first kill." He let go of the gun as he spoke.
Bird's breath hitched in her throat and suddenly she was aware of her brother's presence and his eyes on her.
"How old you were?" Jerome pushed her.
"Seventeen." Bird admitted, not letting herself look over to see the look on Bruce's face, she quickly defended, "But it was an accident."
Running her fingers over the cold metal of the barrel, she continued without being prompted, "Messed up on pills and booze... you know, spoiled little rich girl trying to feel something. That something ended up being a bad case of paranoia and I snapped."
Bruce stared at his sister.
With the words coming out of her mouth, the crazy hair and smeared clown make-up -she might as well have been a stranger he was looking at.
He felt a chill run up his spine at just how easily she did blend in with Jerome's followers.
She put the gun to her temple.
Click.
Letting out the breath she'd been holding, Bird looked back down to the six shot revolver of which they were 3 shots into their game.
Jerome laughed at her words.
After all, who doesn't love a little self-deprecation?
"An accident," He repeated her words back to her. A wheeze of a laugh as he doubled over, "You're hilarious!"
He dramatically slapped his knee for effect.
When she handed him the gun back, he glanced around at everyone watching them.
All waiting on the main event and Jerome looked back at Bird with a knowing smile, he nodded in Bruce's direction and pointed out, "Doesn't matter how long you stall this, sunshine. I'm still gonna kill him."
"You can try," Bird stared him down, "But it didn't work out so well for you the last time, remember?"
With her hand, she mimicked the motion of him getting stabbed in the neck.
Jerome threw his head back and laughed towards the night sky. A roar.
His voice still deeper and scratchy from the injury he'd sustained the night he'd been killed
"I think," He put the gun under his chin to change things up this time, "That you're wasting your time,"
Click.
Bird reached her hand out for the gun.
Two shots left -one of them would prove fatal.
"Trust me, Bird," The stretched flesh on his face looking more distorted as the staples loosened with time, "You're gonna feel so much better when he's dead!"
Another laugh boomed out of him and instead of handing the gun over he raised it and pointed it at her.
Lining up his sights with one eye pinned shut.
He pulled the trigger, fired a shot just above Bird's shoulder -hitting the man standing behind her.
"Eh," He shrugged like he didn't it on purpose.
He then raised the gun to his temple and fired the sixth and last shot.
Knowing the chamber was already empty.
•••