FREAKS || Jerome Valeska¹

47 || Sucks To Be You

The circus lights cast a bright glow against the darkness of Gotham. Cheerful music accompanied - an ironic soundtrack, considering the somber reality to many people here.

Gunfire.

Screams.

Crying.

Maniac laughter.

Pleading.

This chaotic symphony echoed throughout the circus, and it was marvelous. A macabre paradise that brought a smirk to my face. Amidst the suffering, lifeless bodies littered the grounds.

"What do you think, baby?" Jerome questioned as we stood in the center of the chaos, his arms embracing my waist from behind.

"I've never been to the circus." I bounced on my toes.

"I know." He nuzzled his face in my cheek, "That's why we're here."

Grinning, I inspected the scene enthusiastically. "Can I go play now?"

Jerome chuckled, kissing my temple. I gazed at him. "We'll get to it soon, doll," He replied, eliciting a disappointed pout from me. He beamed, sealing his promise with a kiss. He pointed at Bruce Wayne, whose head was covered with a thick black bag. "We have to get our guest ready."

Giggling, I disentangled myself from Jerome's arms and approached Bruce. I removed the sack from his head, he gasped, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the blinding lights. Once he adjusted, panic replaced confusion as he heard the sounds of people crying and asking for help.

Jerome relished the fear in Bruce's eyes.

There were so many things happening all at once.

One game consisted of throwing balls at clown targets, but two were replaced by a man and a woman. Their chins rested on the platforms. The corner of the gentleman's eye already bore a bleeding cut. A cult member tossed a ball, knocking the hat off the man's head. The woman, a few feet away, pleaded, "No, please. No." Ignoring her, he aimed another ball, hitting her on the nose. Hysterics erupted from the group of members as she whimpered and staggered back. Undeterred, the same guy took another ball and hurled it, smacking the scared man on the forehead.

At another game, a man with metal bullseye targets on his body walked while some cult members fired at him with real guns. Bullets struck the metal, making the man wobble and scream from the impact. I'm sure they made some flesh wounds on him, too.

I gasped in amusement, spotting the carousel being used to hold hostages at gunpoint. Tears streamed down their faces as they cried in terror.

Bruce struggled, pained from witnessing the suffering inflicted by the cult.

"Get him," Jerome called out. A loud crash echoed beside us, drawing our attention over to a cult member wielding a large mallet. He was mercilessly whacking the heads of people peeking out from holes. Most of them were bloody already.

"Squash her!" Jerome's enthusiasm peeked as he encouraged violence, standing on his tippy toes from how eager he was. "Get the old lady. No, the fat guy. Put your back into it!" I giggled. Suddenly, The cult member took a powerful swing, connecting the mallet with the man's head. Blood spurted out violently from the sudden cracking of the skull against the edge of the hole, causing wails of terror from the rest of the 'contestants'. I snickered, feeling no remorse whatsoever.

Bruce grimaced slightly.

"Oh." Jerome moaned with closed eyes, pleased with the gruesome result. He chuckled darkly, walking over to the teenager. "Well, we're off to a good start," He remarked to Bruce, who looked at him with a repulsed expression.