CAMERON MONAGHAN IMAGINES

I'm Not Crazy (Jerome).

You rip the duct tape from the civilian's mouth, upon which he takes the opportunity to scream, the sound waves pushing strings of saliva out.

"None of that!" You silence him with your hand over his mouth. "Are you going to try anything else stupid?" You sound like a cliche kidnapper.

He shakes his head. The sweat beading from his forehead signals he's giving you your drug of choice: fear.

"Good. Because the boss-man is coming in soon and he is not as apologetic as I." Your battery  charged from his fear inspires you to slam your brass knuckles onto his hand which is tied to the arm of his chair.

You raise your nose in the air, staring at him as he whimpers. "I knew you'd play along." You remark, regarding his lack of noise.

He clenches his jaw and balls his unharmed fist, mustering up courage. "You are a conniving little cun-"

Your hand blocks his voice from carrying out his words, so hard that head slams back on the concrete wall. Remorse for inflicting pain isn't something you've ever experienced.

Jerome strides into the warehouse, raising his brow. Two stocky men pace his heels. "Why is your mouth on my lady's hand?" You blush at his admittance of possession over you.

"I said..." Jerome tightens his lips. "Why is your dirty mouth slobbering on my fair lady's hand?" He walks beside your extended arm, delicately lifting your hand from the man's mouth to Jerome's own. He dabs a dainty kiss on the back of your hand.

"Hello." Jerome diverts his attention to the shaky man before you. "I'm...you know who I am." Jerome slides a Joker card out from the inside of his jacket. "This is my business card in case you wish to negotiate a trade again." He forces the card into the shirt pocket at the man's chest, embellishing the act with a joyful giggle.

The man tightens up, straightening his spine "So you're the...Joker." There was a thin layer of strength, but his fear became transparent upon saying 'Joker'. The unsubtle angst traveled even to your spine, sending a chill to your neck.

"Yes." Jerome answers plainly.

"Why me?" The man swallows hard.

"Because politicians are frauds. Why are you teaching your people that it's okay to deceive? Gotham needs an honest leader." Jerome always had well justified motives "Such as myself."

"Like you?" He spits. "You're crazy."

Oh. no.

The innermost thoughts of Jerome are crashing into the walls of his body, threatening movement. Although, you know if Jerome moves, it will be deadly.

"Jerome, baby. I can take care of it." You attempt to minimize his anger.

He doesn't respond-or even acknowledge he heard you. You can see his boiling blood. Due to this man's position in the government, you assume Jerome doesn't consider him disposable.

"Crazy..." Only Jerome's feet are planted and his pupils are dilated to their full extent, leaving a small rim of green.

The mans breathing is heavier. He knows he messed up.

"Crazy?" Jerome says through his teeth.

You check over your shoulder at the men who followed Jerome. They have empty expressions.

"I'm not crazy." He takes a fisted swing at the man, connecting with his jaw. He doesn't so much as grunt at the pain. Jerome smashes his toe into the man's shin. Then again, and again, smiling as he does so. This isn't the grin of joy, however. This smile spreads across his cheeks when his fragile ego is splitting apart.