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simpingwriter · 1 year

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Jerome Valeska

Faith Wayne/Phoenix

'All you need

is a bit of Faith'

pt.1

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This is the rewritten first chapter of the Jerome Valeska Fanfic. In this one, other than its predecessor...forget absolutely everything you know about the series 'Gotham', only remember the Debut Episode of Jerome and that's about it. Minus the fact that it was Jim and Bullock that had the case, which isn't the case here. I grabbed Jerome's character and background by the collar and put him into the basic future timeline of Batman and his adopted dysfunctional family. 👍

🤙💀🤙

Family Drama is rad.

Enjoy! :)

Word Count: Approx. 3.000 Words

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It was the early afternoon when a figure clad in dark entered the precinct of the GCPD. It wasn't Batman. The figure was much too short to be the dark knight himself.

But the officers knew this figure just as well, nodding their greetings at the mysterious person while the new officers looked at them with a mix of fear and respect, as they had only heard of you yet.

You.

Phoenix, the fiery sidekick of Batman for almost 9 years now. Named not just for your literal use of non-lethal pyrotechnics to take care of criminals. But also because you never stayed down, you would always stand back up, just like the invincible Phoenix itself.

You nodded back at the older officers before walking past them, snatching one of the powdered donuts from the young cadets – maybe your age, maybe a bit older – as you walked towards the office of a good friend. A friend you knew for the longest time, still just the Captain when you were nothing but a case in this precinct.

Commissioner James, but most commonly known as Jim, Gordon.

He is the reason you're here now, knocking against the glass of the door to his office. "Come in."

His aged eyes light up behind his glasses as he realizes you're here already, on time like always. "Phoenix, perfect. I got a very important request for you, something Batman cannot help me with, I believe."

"An undercover mission in Arkham due to a murder that was witnessed just outside the damn courtyard? Why don't you just take the inmates one by one and ask them about what they saw?" Phoenix asked him, already irritated, pacing up and down in the office as the older man sighed, he expected you to answer that way, "We already tried it that way, believe me. They all clammed up when they saw my men, which is kind of expected if we think about it…"

Right, most of these men and women in Arkham were criminals arrested by Jim's officers after all. You wouldn't talk to them either if they cuffed your ass perhaps just two months prior for something you maybe can't even properly control. "...Fine. But if Batman asks why the HELL I'm not doing my patrol rounds, that's on you to explain. Just give me the file of the persona I'm supposed to take on, I'm ready in about ten minutes, I'll be at the Coffee shop across." You accepted the offer, quickly explaining your next steps before already leaving his office once again, you didn't like idling on things like this or Patrols for long. All these things all chipped away at your free time to either train or take care of yourself.

Back out of the precinct, you vanished into the alleyway next to said coffee shop, changing back into your normal street clothes before leaving through the other alleyway on the other side. As usual with this quick living city, nobody watched you, Nobody saw Phoenix disappear and you appear.

Faith is the Phoenix.

Your backpack was stashed in a spot Jim could find later, so it wouldn't get into the wrong hands or get eaten by rats again. So with all the precautions out of the way, you slip into the coffee shop to start reading into your new persona for who knows how long. You knew of Arkham very well and boy you hoped the case was as easy for you as they usually were, because you sure as hell didn't want to spend even a night in there. But not even Bruce is that quick, especially with absolutely no equipment but your own wits.

Ordering some black tea with sugared condensed milk, – well no, the staff looked a bit confused at your order, so it was normal milk and normal sugar, this isn't Alfred making your tea after all… – you throw yourself into the empty corner booth at the window, diving into the file…

Ten minutes passed quicker than expected when the entrance door's bell rang and you looked up, seeing Jim, looking for you. "Over here, old man!" He recognized you not just by the voice, but also by the teenaged audacity, sliding into the booth with a bitter smile, "I like you with the mask on more." Mask, no mask, who cares. What matters is getting this mission done, you promised something to Damian.

Right, now you remember why you were in such a defined hurry: your youngest brother asked you to show him how to use one of his new gadgets more efficiently. What else was a sister for…

"The mask is just as the name tells you, a mask. Not really me." Bruce has always made you promise to not act too sarcastic and snarky while under the persona of 'Phoenix' so the citizens don't think 'A maniac gets captured by another maniac'

Maniac your ass, Bruce is simply oversaturated with your type of humor after nearly 14 years of living with him. Alfred sometimes tells you to just be you regardless of what Bruce tells you, but it's difficult to be if Bruce is everything you have in a father figure. Literally…

"Can you match the descriptions in the file, or should we change-" "No, actually it's pretty easy. The disorder isn't something impossible to match because hell, sometimes that is one of my own problems." The Commissioner raises one of his brows, it being apparently news to him, "Impulsivity? You usually seem pretty collected to me, despite your very brash humor. Sarcasm does stand for a high IQ after all, right?"

That and about 100+ other things, yeah.

"I take something called medicine for it. I guess you haven't heard of it yet, there is no Ibuprofen or Tylenol for Dinosaurs." His tired eyes say nothing more than 'Again? Again with the Dinosaurs?' before nodding, sighing to himself as he hung his head to wait for you to get ready to leave, "So I will stop using them while I'm in there." You continue though, sounding way too casual for what you said, his head snapping back up and mild panic in his eyes, "You shouldn't, you can act the symptoms just as well, if you know how they feel, can't you?"

That's the unfortunate problem with Impulsive Thoughts. Without your medicine, you never know what comes next, how they hit, when they hit. Your just thankful that you have a very mild version of it, you don't have such thoughts 24/7 when off your meds, just enough to bother your everyday life and your hero life. Not even you could act them out well, as only the beloved nut in your head knows what kinda dumb thoughts you're going to get and act out. "Not in front of Staff, they might not care about the inmates overall, but they sure as hell can see it when someone is faking their disorder or sickness. To sort out the idiots that think the Asylum is less of a punishment than the actual Prison of Gotham."

But surprise surprise, the criminally insane, despite often being the ones needed the most help, are the worse treated ones. Gotham is stuck in the ages where the insane are seen and treated as lesser humans still. And you would've hoped that with his massive influence on most thongs around Gotham, Bruce would try to change that old sat in thought for the better at some point.

But he just left it like that, maybe he was perfectly fine with watching a Robber that only did so during a Bipolar mania episode rot with a serial pedophile rapist that killed and molested all his victims a second time all because the voices told him so. The difference is quite fucking obvious and some inmates themselves even feared a big part of the rest for exactly those differences. Some could've been helped with the right therapy or medication, some, in the same building, were mental fucking lost causes, ticking time bombs.

"Are you certain?" "Very, and don't worry, it will take a while before the symptoms return fully anyways. I took my meds yesterday afternoon, I should've taken a new one by now, so now its effect will slowly diminish in my body until it used up everything. Give it two days before I am fully medicine-free and showing symptoms of doing stupid shit…and I hope I got your witness found out till then."

And that's how you ended up in a police van, already pre-dressed in the usual black and white stripes since Jim wanted to avoid the Staff being overly…touchy…with you being a female first arrival and still dressed in street clothes. Cuffed, you fought against the potholes shaking the whole van around on the way to the Asylum, cursing under your breath. Back at the Manor, you would fill the Swear Jar all on your own right now. But the jar obviously was only useful when Bruce or Alfred were nearby, under siblings, no one cared if a 'fuck' or 'asshole' or worse was used in everyday conversations.

Even Damian cursed already, the little shit the whole damn reason the swear jar exists by now, but if Bruce or Alfred ever found out, you and your siblings were fucking toast.

They just parked at the Inmate-Admittance Entrance and opened the doors when you turned and leaned over to Jim, "Once you get back here to get me out…keep your Lighters to yourself, Commissioner." A guard already roughly pulling you by your collar as you grinned at Jim with mischief. If there was one thing you were amazing at, it was acting. Well except said Impulsivity. That made you so good for undercover jobs, though usually Bruce would have to change your appearance just a bit so it didn't get suspicious with the amount of times you were used to doing it by now.

"Ha, you're not getting back out of here, not after all the messed up shit you probably did!" The guard laughs as he hears your in-act goodbye to Jim, who waved slowly and worried at your clearly true warning with the Lighters as you also waved with a smile. He had to ask Batman about that problem of yours and what the hell Lighters of all have to do with…wait, is it fire? Is her Hero-Identity as literal as he thinks it is?

With that out of the way you're – still quite roughly – being pushed towards the register, the doors of the entrance shutting you away from the outside world as they compare your information to the one they got an hour ago from the police, the file they made for your fake identity, matching them as you told them "your name", "Magdalena Carols? What kinda stupid name did your parents curse you with??" The same guard from before asked your scowling form as he pulled you away from the register again. Are they going to let you walk on your own at any point?!

"I don't know what you mean, Officer…Donut. How fit- UGH!" One bad joke later, you already received your first fist to the face, stumbling away from the impact as the clearly hot-tempered, full-figured Guard glares at you, "It's Donten! Doesn't surprise me at all that a psycho like you can't even read properly. Were too busy burning your school down, weren't ya?"

You kept your further comments to yourself, feeling like it be a waste of energy as you used your still cuffed together wrists to clean the blood from under your nose. Fuck, you wanted to spit it as his feet so badly. Well you cou-

No. Don't.

The rest of the walk down the bleak hallway was quiet until you stopped in front of a door, two guards stationed at it unlocked the barred steel door, sliding it open to the day-room. It was filled with inmates, some you unfortunately even recognized. They probably wouldn't recognize you though, you always wore your mask when you took care of all of them.

"Have fun with your new friends. Some of them are real fans of fresh, young meat like you. In the way you think and the hungry way, hahaha!" Great that he could laugh about that idea of it happening so much, an inmate being raped or eaten by another inmate, literally even more criminal offenses, while he is on shift,…stupid idiot, Officer mcFucking Donut…

Once he removed your Cuffs through the bars, you rolled your shoulders, groaning under the fact of how uncomfortable Cuffs can be if some idiot makes them too tight. While doing that, you missed the fact that everyone stared at you. Well, you wouldn't for long.

And it wasn't everyone either, just some stray inmates sitting on tables at the edge of the room. All the others seemed much more invested in a commotion near the middle of the room…

In that ring that formed out of inmates alone, the tallest man in the room was incredibly obvious, even when he was clearly kneeling down. When he raised his massive fist, fresh blood of some other inmate smeared onto them, you realized you probably should try to stop this. This fat mountain would kill an unknown Inmate if he continued, maybe…maybe he already did and he is beating nothing but their Corpse to mush!?

But either way: you had to think about the slim possibility of the target of these attacks being the potential witness to the murder outside the courtyard! And helping him or her out of this situation would most likely put you on their good side. Still, it was probably mostly your savior-complex as your body moved basically on its own, walking with determination towards the ring of people before squeezing your way through. During which you noticed something, something terrifying: they all chanted the same name, that must belong of the mountain of a man, telling them to be louder for him. They chanted for him to kill the other inmate.

How could one inmate be so hated??

Finally arriving at the inside of the ring, you had to realize with horror that whoever he was beating up was a cornflake compared to his size. A young ginger boy, your age probably, not exactly buff but not scrawny either, more in the middle. But even then, definitely not capable of defending himself from whatever that was even if he had been prepared!

You had to help him!

"HEY! Mess with someone who can actually handle your fat fucking ass, Dumbo!" You shout the words without much thought put into them, and when the mountain's head snapped into your direction, you accepted your mistake. Now you definitely had to deal with him, running away won't save you after what you just said, but he wasn't the first of his size that challenged you. Killer Croc for example. That scaly beast was about 9 ft tall…and so is this inmate it appears, at least once he stood up from where he kneeled over the beaten up ginger, who barely had the strength left to look towards your voice as well. The one eye that wasn't swollen shut grew wide in horror as he saw the massive man stomp towards you, your 5ft frame looking like a tiny snack in comparison, even smaller than a Cornflake, if you already kept that comparison running.

You proved many times that size didn't matter during a fight, it was the training and determination to fight back that did.

The inmates around you suddenly thinned out in a panic when they saw the 9ft tall man walk towards you and them, giving you enough space to spot your weapon of choice, running towards it while backwards, keeping him in your line of sight the whole time while also making sure no one else began to beat into the ginger on the ground. If he caught you, he could quite literally wrap his hands around your head and squish it like a overly ripe watermelon, so you had to use your agility to your advantage.

"And you're that someone?" He laughs at his own question loudly, sounding almost too deep to actually count as a laugh to your ears. Jumping onto one of the tables, taking one of the chairs with you in the same motion, you swing it out towards his head just in time, the table giving you a bit of height to reach it better.

The chair hit him directly, he couldn't even see it coming as you smashed it against his dome with enough force that the chair, made of literal steel, bent under the force. "Yes I am…" For your luck, the fight was as anticlimactic as Dick's Speech last week, his eyes widening at your audacity, mumbling something, "You're going to regret…choosing his side…" before collapsing to the side with a dusty, heavy thump.

Discarding the chair to his body – adding basically a second beating to his face – you jump off the table and run over to the ginger on the cement floor. There was literally blood everywhere on him, his heartbeat extremely elevated and his breathing labored.

You didn't waste another moment to even think about talking to him now, he was only able to mumble some incoherent words as of right now, so you pick him up from his position on the floor, having to ignore his pained but subdued wincing for now. You need to get him to the Infirmary before he-

Just finished with getting him on your back, you could only feel the hard, cold impact against your temple and hear the shattering of glass during said impact and when it fell to the floor in shards before the dull pain set in near immediate afterwards. A glass bottle. Who the fuck let mentally unwell inmates have THAT of all forms of possible fluid transportation?!

Stumbling and staggering a bit from that, you get back steady as you turn to the direction the bottle came from, "Throw even one more and I'll come back for you lot as well. If I can fuck him over, you're all child's play to me!" It came out just as threatening as you wanted it to be, the inmates one by one inching away from you and the boy on your back. Until you had enough room to see a different guard from before at a barred steel door near the far corner of the room, waving you over to him. Over the door was a steel plate sign: Infirmary and Solidary Holding cells.

Thank God you're going to the first one, the second one would put a bit of a pebble in your mission. Well, more of a Boulder.

"You're more than just crazy for throwing yourself into the ring with him! Morgan could stomp your lights out in a sec if you aren't careful from now on!" Why did he care, to him, you're an inmate like everyone else in here. Just like Morgan, like the ginger he beat up…

You wonder what he did to end up in here, what he did to get nearly all the Inmates rooting against him in such an unfair confrontation. He didn't even look like he belonged here, from what you at least could see through the blood coating his pale face, slowly drying up by now…

"Why…"

Huh?

"Why did you…save me?"

Because that's what Phoenix does…and so does Faith. They save people, no matter who…if their lives are in danger, she will try her best to help them.

"Because I don't know you yet."

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#jerome valeska x oc #dc fanfic #batfam #Jerome Valeska x Batsis!OC #cameron monaghan x oc #batfam x batsis #batfam x batsis!oc #Innocent Jerome Valeska #my baby boi

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