Gotham Imagines and One Shots

Play with fire - Part 11 - Victor x Reader

A figure dressed all in black stood looking down at a slumbering Victor. Even in his sleep he looked smug. So confident. So self-assured. So cocky. So caught up in his own reputation that he could sleep like a baby. Sure that no one would dare to come for him. Yet he had not counted on Bullseye. Had not counted on the woman that wanted revenge more than anything.

She couldn't believe that she had been able to make her way into his apartment so easily. That she had been able to rifle through his furniture and find all the hidden weapons. That she had been able to pull the gun out from under his pillow. From under his mattress. The haul now in a bag next to the door, ready for her to take when she left. Ready for her to use against him.

Slowly, the assassin took a deep breath. She could end it all now. One bullet between the eyes, and all this would be over with. Perhaps she could continue working at the GCPD. Continue being the cop. Bullseye no longer needing to exist if Victor was dead. After all, she had been able to evade the law this long, so she should be able to continue to do so with just this one last death, shouldn't she? She could have some kind of normal life. A real relationship. Perhaps with Ed, Jim or Harvey. But she knew that she was kidding herself. Ending Victor's torture now, would not be enough. It would be too simple. There would be no real gratification if she killed him in his sleep. No thrill without seeing the knowledge that sooner or later, he was going to be dead, in his eyes. And she hated the idea of a "normal" life. Her beige apartment, her worst nightmare. A cosy, comfortable little life, not something that she had ever wanted. So, she would stick with her plan. She would make Victor's life a misery. And then, when the time was right, the final coup de grâce. The moment that she would reveal herself, before doing what she had waited years for. Before she put a bullet right between Victor's eyes.

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Victor scrambled for his gun, as he found himself on the floor. His eyes growing wide as he found nothing. The guns that he always kept close by, gone.

"Do you really think I would have left you something, Victor? I have too much planned, to do that." A deep, electronically altered male voice came. Victor's eyes adjusting to the gloom as he stared in disbelief at the black figure with a mask covering its face, that stood over him. The glint of metal in the figures hand telling the assassin that a gun was pointed right at his head. Yet despite his precarious position, he couldn't help but be himself.

"Who the fuck do you think you are coming in here? Do you know who I am? I should kill you...................."

"Ah! You could try and kill me, but the fact that I have the only gun in the room, we both know would make that threat a little more difficult to fulfil. And you can stop the bravado, Victor. It might scare the idiots in Gotham, but it doesn't scare me. You know you're fucked, so just accept it and be quiet. And as far as who I think I fucking am, I am Bullseye." The figure hissed disdainfully, as a bullet was placed into the chamber.

Victor moved slowly, rising a little from his prone position. Angry more at himself for being distracted since he had got back from speaking with Bullock and Gordon. Since he had seen the beautiful woman in the corridor, than anything else. He had had a feeling that sooner or later Bullseye would make an appearance. That he would come and introduce himself. And normally he would have been more prepared. He would not have allowed the upstart the get the jump on his like this. He would have killed him and just got on with his night. But, that woman had stuck in his mind. She had made him think. Sent him back to a time long before he had become the feared assassin. Back to a time when he, dare he say...........had been happy. Her eyes. The way that she had looked at him, strangely and eerily familiar. The colour of her orbs reminding him of the only thing, the only killing that he had ever regretted. Of the first mark that had been cut into his arm.

He knew that this was no time to be distracted. That he had to think of some way of getting himself out of this. But at this moment, he could recall everything about her. The orphan. The child that he and his grandmother had quickly grown to love. The rebellious girl that was more like him than he dared admit. The young woman that had been his first kiss. The young woman that had been his first everything. The smell of her suddenly seeming to surround him, as he looked up at the black clad assassin. The long forgotten taste of her, suddenly coming back to his lips, as Bullseye stood there in silence, just seeming to be waiting for the right moment to kill him. The image of death whose scythe had been replaced by a pistol.

Victor hadn't wanted to kill her. But at the time, he believed that he had no other choice. He was young. Ambitious. He wanted to be the best. To be the most feared. And he knew with her around, that would never be the case. She had always bested him. Always outwitted him. Always made him look like a rank amateur. So, despite everything he knew she meant to him. Despite all the feelings that he had for her; he had had to destroy her. He had had to stop the emotions that made him weak. A single bullet, taking all that away. A single bullet making it possible for him to achieve all that he had strived for. The woman the only victim that he couldn't look at after he had killed. Victor quickly dressing and leaving her body, naked in the bed.

"Get up!" An order suddenly came. The croaky, raspy, electronic voice bringing Victor back from his thoughts. From the only memories that haunted the feared, cold and ruthless assassin.

"Why? Do you think that I am going to make this easier for you? Go fuck yourself..............." Victor scoffed in reply. Not in the mood to play Bullseye's game.

"Fine. We will play it that way." The reply came. Victor finding himself once more prone on the floor, as a heavy boot connected with his chin. He ears ringing. His brain throbbing as he spat blood onto the floor. His breath leaving his lungs as another kick connected with his ribs.

"We're going to have a little fun, Victor........Or should that be........I am going to have a little fun. And when this is over, you will be begging me to let you die." The voice of the assassin mocked, as this time the butt of Bullseye's gun cut deep into the flesh of his cheek.