Gotham Imagines and One Shots

Play with fire - Part 9 - Victor x Reader

(Y/n) watched, as Victor sat there, stony faced. His arms crossed firmly across his chest as he explained to Jim and Harvey that he knew nothing of the new assassin in town. That this Bullseye was proving to be as much of a headache to him, as he was the GCPD and Gotham. Harvey mockingly commenting that he was so very sorry that some other paid killer was making his life hard. And she couldn't help but smile. Everything was going as she planned. Bullseye was proving frustratingly elusive, because unlike other killer that would go to the crime bosses of the city, she had stayed away. Using her knowledge and the records in the precinct, to select her victims. To be one step ahead of the likes of Cobblepot. Pre-empting his request for Victor to dispose of certain problems. The fact that Victor was irritated, evident in his eyes, despite how much he tried to hide it. But, she had known him for long enough, and well enough to notice the little signs. The small twitch in his lip. The shallowness of his breathing, all led her to believe that Bullseye had gotten further under Victor's skin, than she could have ever hoped.

A little part of her wanted to just make her way into the interview room, pull out her service revolver, and shoot Victor where he sat. It was what he deserved after all. To be put down like the dog he was. A disloyal, cowardly dog. But that would be over to soon, and it would result in her finding herself in prison, or worse, in Arkham. So, she would stick with her plan of making Victor's life as miserable as possible. Of torturing him for as long as she could, before doing what he couldn't all those years before.

(Y/n) moved up to the two-way mirror. Finding it hard not to chuckle at Harvey's latest sarcastic comment that was aimed directly at the assassin. She had to admit that she had always liked watching Jim and Harvey talk to people. Liked watching them question a subject. Harvey with the ability to make one sarcastic remark after another, as Jim did his best not to roll his eyes and keep the interview on track. (Y/n) finding herself wondering whether, in another world, she could have found something with either of the male detectives. A life. Love. The pair certainly having charms that she liked. Their own little ways and quirks that she had come to care about. But this was not another world. It was Gotham. A dark, stink cesspool of crime, corruption and death. And she........well she, or should that be Bullseye, was the newest shit in that pool.

Suddenly, she focused on Victor. Ah.........that morbid sense of humour had not left him. The killer making an unsavoury joke about her last victim. Smiling as Jim and Harvey seemed to not take it too well. It was becoming more and more apparent that whereas she had changed so much since she had last seen him. And not just the changes that she had made to her appearance, manner and voice. Victor had changed very little. In fact, the only change seemed to be, that he had got better at what he did. But not even all his years of killing, had made him as good as she was. They had not made him good enough to escape her want for revenge.

Revenge. The action of hurting or harming someone in return for an injury or wrong suffered at their hands. In the orphanage she had been reprimanded so many times for seeking revenge on those that had done her harm. On those that she saw as having committed some kind of wrongdoing against her. More than a few boys' finding their noses being bloodied and broken. A few girls' hair being cut in the middle of the night. Their screams in the morning filling her with glee. (Y/n) not caring when she was punished for her crimes. When she was locked away. The orphan knowing that she could always escape. That she could always find her way to Victor and his grandmother. That he would listen as she told him what she had done. Victor laughing as he appeared to get as much joy from what she had done, from the hurt that she had inflicted, as she had. Yet, as she had become the woman she was now, she had learnt that there were more subtle ways of getting your own back on others. More discrete forms of pain than a simple bloodied nose. More exquisite forms of torture than the cutting of hair. And now, now she would use all that knowledge to get the greatest revenge. For heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.

Without warning, she saw Harvey and Jim get to their feet. It obvious that the interview had finished. That they had asked the assassin all the questions she had wanted them to. (Y/n) just hoping that they didn't ask to see her notes on Victor's answers. Because she hadn't taken any.

Quickly, she made her way to the door. Her hand hesitating momentarily as she reached for the handle. She wanted to be in the hall when Harvey and Jim escorted Victor from the precinct. She now wanted him to look her in the eye. To see her face, yet not know who she was. To not know that it was her that was coming for him. To not know that she would be the last thing that he saw. But could she? Could she stand there and just watch as he walked away as if he had done nothing. As if he had not ruined her life. As if he had not destroyed everything.

"Do it!" (Y/n) ordered herself. Her hand grabbing the handle and turning it. The female detective moving into the hall, as the three men made their way out of the room. All of them looking at her as they made their way past. Jim and Harvey wondering why, after what she had said about not wanting Victor knowing about her, she would be there when he was leaving. Victor wondering who the beautiful woman was that was watching him. His eyes catching hers as he walked by. The assassin getting the strangest feeling that he had seen the bright orbs before. That he somehow knew her. That somehow, she knew him.