Gotham Imagines and One Shots

Play with fire - Part 5 - Victor x reader

Victor smashed up the room. Objects flying. Furniture turned over, as his anger got the better of him. This wasn't him. He prided himself on being cool, calm and detached in any given situation. But this shit was getting real, and he'd had enough.

He had received information that this so called "Bulleye" up start, was most definitely responsible for eight deaths in the city. And now he had heard that there could be a ninth. But it wasn't the number of victims that was pissing the hitman off. It was the fact that people had begun to talk about this new assassin. Had begun to whisper about someone that seemed to know all about the little jobs that the big crime bosses of the city wanted doing, before they had chance to tell anyone about them. And certainly, before they had had a chance to tell Victor. Men like Cobblepot beginning to wonder if in fact Victor was still the best. Whether his throne, his title, might have been usurped. And the fact that people were dead without them having to pay for it, was certainly making others question whether Victor was worth his high price tag.

Taking a deep breath, Victor tried to calm his ire. He could not lose his cool. He was still the best. Would always be the best. No one had ever, nor would ever come close. Well.........perhaps that wasn't completely true. Victor dropping into the only chair left standing, as he thought about that.

There had once been someone. Someone that was as good, if not better than he had been at most things, no matter how much he had tried. A girl. A lost, abandoned young woman. An orphan. Someone that he and his grandmother had come to love. To see as family. And for Victor, it had been more. She had been the first girl that he had kissed. The first girl to hold his hand. The first girl that he had ever been with. The only person other than his grandmother that he had ever cared about.

The old woman had always said that he and the little orphan had been separated at birth. That they had been made for one another. And together they could do anything. Could rule the world. But in the end, there could be only one of them. Only one of them could rule the roost. And Victor had decided that it had to be him. His fingers absentmindedly brushing over the oldest scar on his arm. The first scar that he had sliced into his flesh. The pink mark standing on its own. Away from all the others. The only mark that made him think. The only mark that he had frequently regretted.

He had often thought about her. Even woke up in the middle of the night, in a cold sweat. His heart pounding violently in his chest, as his mind was filled with images of her blooded, lifeless, dark eyed corpse looming over him. Pointing an accusing finger. The digit turning into a gun. A shot being heard, before he suddenly woke up, clutching at his chest.

He couldn't blame the figure for accusing him. He had told her that he loved her. He had made promises. Yet in the end, he had betrayed her. A single shot ringing out, before he had left her in a pool of her own blood. But what he wouldn't give to have her by his side now. She had always been smart. Always fastidious. She studied. Learnt. Never rushed in. And he was sure that she would have been able to find this new upstart. That she would have been able to lead him to this Bullseye. And Victor would be able to shoot him.

Suddenly a knock rang out. Victor grabbing for his gun. The assassin slowly, quietly, and carefully, making his way to the ingress. Listening for any noise, a movement that might give him a clue to whom his mystery visitor was. Where the visitor was. A cough, a voice. The sound of a bullet being loaded into a chamber. But there was nothing. Victor reaching for the handle, as he readied himself. As he made sure that he was prepared to face whoever, or whatever, waited in the hall. Yet as the door opened, Victor saw no one. The corridor as silent as the grave. His brows furrowing in confusion, as he looked down and saw a small posy of flowers placed on the mat. The assassin taking another look around, before slowly bending down to pick up the flowers. Victor moving the note that was attached to the small spray, so that he could read the message.

"Roses are red.

Violets are blue.

My name is Bullseye.

And I'm watching you..

Lets play."

Something falling to the ground, as Victor read the last words. The assassin reaching for the small object, to find that it was a bullet with his name etched into it. His grip getting tighter on his gun, as he pushed the projectile into his pocket. Victor having a feeling that this Bullseye had just fired the first volley. But if this new kid on the block wanted a war. Victor was perfectly happy to give him one.

                                                          >>-----------------------------<<

(Y/n) had been called to her latest crime scene. Going through the usual routine, of checking for clues. Sending officers out to find out if there were any security cameras in the vicinity. To canvas the neighbours. Watching as Ed had studied the scene, the victim in situ, before he had finally been able to have it taken back to the morgue. Doing her best not to smile, as she watched her colleagues run around like headless chickens. As she listened to them talk about the new assassin as if they were a ghost. Something that they had never come across before. Though now, the detective was back at the precinct. Admittedly, she had taken the slightest of detours. Just to drop off something that would make Victor think. That would inform him of her intentions. But now, she had to get back into full detective mode. She had to show that she was doing her best to find the new assassin. To find the new scourge of Gotham. A scourge that was ready to take things to the next level.