#rid of it. as she was the key connected to the goddess glory. and in the comics she stars figuring out how to use her powers and stuff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theartistdetective · 7 years

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The Joker x Harley Quinn - Mephisto: Part 13

Hiya guys! It’s me again. Just so you don’t know, this is part includes the last bit of the child’s story, so get ready to learn the little one’s identity.

Sadly, due to my pc’s condition -still-, I am currently using a device that makes it a lot hard for me to use italic writing: so don’t be alarmed when you read the child’s story. And I will write the characters thoughts like ‘this,. So, enjoy.

WARNINGS: Ok I need a lot of warnings for this part, NSFW, smut, though it is more like a sex scene in a movie than downright porn, weird usage of grape soda, and lets warn you about a more important part, DOMESTIC ABUSE, sadness, horror, drugs, more sadness, p.s. I don’t know if it is scary since I can’t be scared of reading something even if it’s horror, AGAIN MORE SADNESS

MASTERLIST

The King of Gotham reached out for the handle of the door belonging to his purple Lamborghini, a grin adorning his face, to get his dear queen out of the car. Pulling the handle towards himself, the Joker opened the door and held out his hand for her; earning a flirty giggle from the insane Mephisto. As soon as she took his hand, the madman forcefully pulled her towards himself. A squeal escaped Harley’s mouth as she tripped on the long skirt of her red dress and fell forward, landing on the Joker’s bare chest.

She laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips on his. He kissed her back, savoring the warm and wet sensation on his lips; slipping his tongue in.

After a few passionate seconds; the Joker broke the kiss and placed his hand on the small of her back, leading her to the stairs going up to the majestic entrance of his mansion through the pathway surrounded by trees.

The building was located in the outskirts of Gotham. A forest consisting of larches was surrounding it, making it almost unseeable to the outsiders. Of course; the Clown Prince of Crime rarely chose to spend his nights here, as he always had some mischief to cause somewhere in Gotham, which needed him to have multiple hideouts in the city. The only times he got to stay in this luxurious residence were the times he waited for everything to cool down. Like, when he got out of Arkham; or blew up the national bank… the time when those commoners would be keyed up, waiting for his next move. The Joker would make them wait on purpose, just to raise the level of psychological torment of being the prey.

Above all, this was the mansion Harley brought him after she had broken him out from the Arkham Asylum. A memory the Joker did not remember, mostly because he was drugged as hell by the same woman. This intrigued him in a different way, he wanted to see how this woman did business. Not only she had found his main hideout, she also knew that was the place he would have to stay after a breakout from Arkham. He unconsciously eyed the woman walking beside him as he couldn’t help but smile, ‘You really know everything don’t you?’

The Joker leaned towards the intriguing woman as he got his lips closer to her ear, and whispered: “I really hope you weren’t bugged this time. I have still got that itch to scratch.” Harley grunted in annoyance: “I’m not. I’ve double-checked myself and double-threatened Harry. He wouldn’t dare to interrupt us this time.”

The Joker chuckled as he chimed, “Well, you’ve managed to get rid of him while coming to the club; a small bug isn’t that important…” They stopped in front of the entrance of the mansion, as the Clown Prince of Crime’s childish behavior suddenly turned into a cunning one. “…I was planning on strip searching you myself anyway.”

Harley giggled in delight, “You’re always so skeptical Mr. J…”

They heard multiple cars’ engines roaring as they entered the mansion. Frost and the other henchmen who had beeen escorting them from a safe distance had arrived. Even when they had been on the road, Frost was extra careful to not to approach to his Boss and his lady too much; not leaving them without any guard as well; for he knew Boss wouldn’t tolerate any interruption during his private moments with the goddess of assassins. With a single movement of his hand, the goons came to a halt, waiting near the cars patiently. They all knew they were waiting for the King and Queen to go upstairs, where all of them except Frost was forbidden to go.

His hand on the small of Harley’s back, the Joker escorted her through the halls soaked in gold and sprinkled with gems. Together, they climbed up the wooden stairs, embroidered with golden ornaments of harlequins and jesters.

The end of the stairs was opening to a giant lobby, furnished with dark purple leather seats, a plain grey carpet and three gigantic hyper realistic paintings hanging on it’s cream-colored walls. The paintings might had been looked like photographs for an unknowing eye, but Harley knew it was otherwise. The first painting was of a little girl, holding a gun which was too big for her hand, while pointing it upward. The second was of a young boy, who seemed to be praying to the Donald Duck figure floating on his bed while he crouched near it. The third one, Harley knew, was a self-portrait of the artist himself; screaming through the breaking glass as half of his head was covered in bandages, the tines of two forks pricking his eyes out.

“You love Gottfried Helnwein too, huh?” muttered Lady Snowblood, just when the Clown Prince of Crime was about to proceed to the door at the end of the lobby. The Joker threw a surprised glance at her: “You know him?”

“Yes. Actually, he’s my favorite artist. Too bad I couldn’t see these when I came here before, it must probably be because I entered your room from the window.”, she muttered.

“Ha!” laughed the madman. “He’s one of my favorites as well.” he exclaimed as they passed through the artworks, stopping in front of the door at the end of the lobby. The door had a hand-print scanner attached to it. Harley glared suspiciously at the security device and smirked: “Well, that thing doesn’t worth a penny when your enemies know how to climb a damn window.”

“For your information milady,” mocked the Joker. “That window also was tightly shut, designed to be opened only from the inside and had a titanium shield covering it; as well as being connected to a deafening alarm system.” he listed as the door opened. He stepped back and held the door out for her, as he curtsied dramatically with a sarcastic grin plastered on his face. As Harley passed by him, he leaned on her ear slightly and whispered: “That enemy must be very eager to enter my bedroom if she is willing to struggle with a window that much.”

Lady Snowblood playfully bit her lower lip and eyed the man slightly, before turning towards him and trapping him between her body and the jambs of the entrance. “Although I must admit I was quite eager puddin’…” she giggled, as her hand slowly went down; stroking the bulge on his pants playfully. “I didn’t struggle at all, you know I have my ways.”

“Oh, I know you have your ways darling…” the madman purred, sliding his body away from hers, easily getting away from her grip. “But you must know that I have some ways to punish a person who blows up my windows.”

He quickly linked her arm with hers, squeezing it tight; while she squeezed his back. “Oh goodie, I like the way that sounds.”, she chimed and rested her head on his shoulder as she snuggled to him closer.

The room they entered was a king suite, the bedroom of the infamous Clown Prince of Crime. It was connected to the office of his, the place his formidable ideas were notoriously created. The luxury which the rest of the mansion possessed, wasn’t fit to hold a candle to the flamboyance in that suite. The walls were cream colored, with black colored “HA!“s scattered hither and thither. A king size bed with satin purple covers was standing with all it’s glory, just right beside the window in question; which was opening to a grand terrace. There was a golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling, which wasn’t doing any kind of work to lighten the room at that moment.

The red and yellow colors dancing in the fireplace were doing it’s work temporarily. A toxic green leather sofa was placed by the fireplace and between them, laid the come-hither bearskin rug. There was a wooden bucket filled with ice and multiple bottles of grape soda near the rug. Harley gazed at the scene and smirked, "Well aren’t you a romantic, baby?”

She kicked her heels off and sat on the fluffy rug. The Joker followed her and did the same, sitting right next to the bewitching Mephisto, leaning on the leather couch behind him. He took the two bottles of grape soda and handed one to her as he downed a huge nip. “Where does Edgar think you are right now?”

“A mission in Boston.” whispered Lady Snowblood and took a sip, licking her lips after.

“Good.” growled the King of Gotham. “I’m not planning to release you for a while.”

Harley giggled and snuggled towards the madman. He pulled her in his embrace as she whispered in his ear, “Tell me puddin, does it always feel this good to be your prisoner?”.

The Joker purred, sending shiver down to Harley’s spine; “Only for you my harlequin…”

Their lips instantly collided and their movements started to become more like their heartbeats: fast and filled with pure lust. Their tongues tasted the grape juice and longing in each other as they fought for dominance: Harley passed her fingers through the Joker’s green hair, pulling them harshly, making him throw his head back with a grunt; exposing his neck to her. Her lips brushed his alabaster skin before she started sucking, placing sulphureous kisses on his neck, aiming to give him a hickey. The Joker placed his hand on her hips, pulling her towards himself as his hands moved down to grab her by the thighs, pulling her on his lap. After a harsh slap which made her squeal on her behind, his hands moved upwards; one held her golden locks away from her back while the other unzipped that maddening red dress of hers.

She lifted her face up from his neck and smirked. The top of the dress fell down loosely from her shoulders. Harley quickly freed her arms from the tight red velvet and stood up from his lap agilely. She swayed her hips left and right as if she was dancing to an inaudible beat, letting the fabric slide down her curves. She winked at the Joker when the dress fell down completely, earning an impatient growl from him.

The madman eyed her dazzling body in black lingerie and downed the rest of the grape flavored drink completely. Harley giggled, throwing her hair on her shoulders and reached back to the clasp of her bra. The Joker growled impatiently again and grabbed his cane laying beside him. He held his cane out and propped the handle of it on the seductive Mephisto’s loin. He forcefully pulled her towards himself before she unclasped it, like he did to get her off the stage. Harley fell on him, a quick yelp escaping her lips, before she settled on his lap once again.

The madman laughed at her surprised expression and pulled her face closer towards his, grabbing her chin. Harley started grinding on him as their lips met, feeling him grow even stiffer in his pants. She smiled into the kiss as he started purring. Oh how much she loved to tease him! Although her lips parted with his, she continued tracing his addictive skin down with wet kisses while continuing to grind on him. She planted a kiss on his jawline, before tracing his neck again. She bit his collarbone, earning a hiss from the madman as another slap landed on her behind. She giggled and slowly started taking his shirt off as her tongue started swirling on her chest. His shirt was already nearly unbuttoned, but she couldn’t resist the urge to tear the buttons apart completely. The silk fabric slid off the Joker’s muscled shoulders easily after that.

As her lips’ soft brushing danced on every part of his naked chest, she slowly slid off his lap and placed herself in front of him, on her elbows and knees. She struggled with his belt buckle as her tongue traced the line between his abs, going downwards. Harley unzipped his pants and reached under the two coats of fabric. The madman threw his head back as her hands wrapped around his stiffened member. He started caressing her hair as he purred, synchronized with each stroke she gave him. She giggled at his reaction and planted a soft kiss on his foreskin as she reached towards her bottle of grape soda. While still being propped up on her elbows, Harley sloppily attempted to drink it; pouring it on both of them in the process. “Oops, sorry puddin…” she giggled, looking at the madman innocently.

The madman chuckled at her theatrics and reached forward to caress her cheek. “Oh my, aren’t you a freaky one pumpkin?”

She giggled in response, licking his soda covered shaft from bottom to top in one swift motion.

The Joker held his breath uncontrollably as he felt Harley’s lips closing around himself. He held her head by her hair as she started moving her head back forth. The madman purred as he felt her tongue swirling around him. His purrs made Harley shiver to her core and she picked up the pace, taking him balls deep, eager to get more sounds out of him. Without any theatrics this time, Harley took the bottle of soda and poured the rest of the drink on him; before continuing to work her tongue on him even faster than before. After the Joker’s purrs slowly started to turn into fierce growls, she moaned and playfully grazed her teeth on his member; slightly biting the tip before she continued.

She yelped as the madman suddenly tugged her hair back, making her rise her head up. The Joker was quick to grab her by the chin, pulling her on his torso. He then rolled over in a swift motion and trapped the Mephisto of his between his chest and the bearskin rug.

He kissed her then, unclasping her bra and before throwing it god-knows-where. His hand grasped her breast as his lips lingered on the sweet spot on her neck while his mouth moved downwards. When the Joker’s hands found her hips, his started wandering on her breasts, instantly finding her nipple. He bit her hard like she did to him, earning a yelp from his Harley. He tasted the small drop of blood he had drawn from her sensitive skin, before he continued sucking.

This was just like the dreams the Joker had before. Her heavenly figure under his hands, his figure under her devilish gaze… Though this time, the intoxicating scent filling his nostrils and the soft whimpers filling his ears were very real and true.

He planted a soft kiss on her belly, gazing at the temptation of red and yellow lights taking over her soothingly creamy skin. After his face was lowered enough to level with her hips, the madman tugged the side of the remaining part of the lingerie with his teeth like he did in the dreams of his; never breaking eye contact with his Mephisto.

Harley raised her legs up a little bit, as the lace piece slowly slid through them, going down to her ankles. Still holding the fabric between his teeth, he harshly tugged it off and threw it away; before settling himself between her legs.

Harley placed her thighs on the madman’s shoulders and couldn’t help but shiver, feeling his hot breath lingering on her throbbing core. Their gaze interlocked for a second, before a vulgar growl ripped from the back of the madman’s throat.

Soon, his mouth was on her womanhood, his growls slowly turning into pleasant purrs. Lady Snowblood’s body twitched from the vibrating sensation, making the Joker’s grip get tighter on her hips as she whimpered, earning a slap on her behind by the madman. His tongue moved around, drawing zigzags on her clit. He removed his right hand away from her hip and inserted one finger in her, working it around. Harley couldn’t help but let a trilled moan out. The Joker inserted a second finger as well and without moving them around, he started to slowly make in and out motions, tormenting Harley as she started twitching under his touch, begging for more. The madman did nothing but giggle at her desperate begs. He quickened the movements of his tongue and she softly started to caress his now messy hair, as the madman continued to eat her out voraciously while fingering her. He slowly picked the pace, earning more moans from his Harley.

When the Mephisto’s moans started turning into ferocious grunts which she could not fully let out due to the strain formed in her throat’s muscles, the Joker suddenly pulled away from her.

Harley whimpered with dissatisfaction, longing the hot feeling of his touch on her skin. But almost instantly after that, the Joker was on top of her again; this time, their eyes on the same level. Their foreheads touching; although their lips were dangerously close to each other, they didn’t kiss. They just stopped for a brief second, their breaths getting even more heavier than before; as Harley threw her arms around the Joker’s shoulders, feeling his hot member on her pelvis.

Their gaze interlocked and they both held their breath as he slowly entered her, their muscles straining at the impact of the vertiginous sensation. The Joker, surprisingly, gave her some brief seconds to adjust to him; but as soon as he got the signal to continue, he took Harley’s breath away, starting to pound into her. Harley’s walls clenched around him even more as he started to move faster. His movements were stern and rough; Harley had tears swelling up in her eyes. The Joker’s grunts were mixing with her loud moans. She was holding onto his body like he was the last piece of wood in the vast ocean, the only thing that could possibly save her from drowning. The Joker lifted his head up, separating their foreheads and kissed her before burying his face in her neck, biting her hard. He slowed down for some brief seconds for he felt her muscles clenching around him even more. “You…” he pounded into her again. “…can’t…”, he grunted. “…come…”, he bit her ear. “…before I tell you to do so.”, he inhaled her scent for a moment as her moans turned into silent whimpers. She nodded, agreeing, trying to catch her breath. He kissed her neck multiple times before putting his forehead on hers one more time.

He returned to his rough way again straight after and the Mephisto’s whimpers turned into a mixture of moans and screams, which only made his movements quicker and harsher. One of his hands reached down and started rubbing her clit. Harley buried her face in his shoulder to silence a moan and planted kisses on his jawline after. Their grip was growing tighter on each other as the seconds passed and they knew they were both their limit.

Harley shut her eyes tight as she hissed through her gritted teeth, “Daddy… I…”

That word and her walls clenching around him made the Joker’s movements get sloppy. Harley opened her mouth to let out a scream as she came but choked on it, she just stiffened in his embrace and shivered as he grunted, following her; loosely resting his left cheek on her right one as he moved slowly inside her, feeling her throb around his shaft. Harley felt him coming in her and slowly caressed his hair, waiting for him until he recollected himself.

The Joker then rolled over and collapsed right next to her, both of them trying to catch their breath. They looked at each other as Harley spoke first, giggling. “Wow…” she mumbled. “That was…”

“Wild.”, the madman continued, looking at her with a smirk plastered on his face. Harley giggled, “Yes, daddy…”, she winked at him and planted a quick butterfly kiss on his lips when he started purring again. She stood up in a swift motion before he was able to catch her; holding her hair away from her face. Kicking her black high heels out of her way, she had just started heading to the bathroom when all of a sudden, she stopped and turned her head towards the madman.

“Care to join me for some more fun puddin?” she chimed playfully.

“Oh, pumpkin…” the Joker sang, gazing at her heavenly form, “I am definitely not insane enough to turn down that offer.”

And the King of Gotham stood up, taking his pants off completely as he followed his Queen to the shower, long red nail-marks distinguishable on his tattooed back.

***

It had been five hours since the beautiful woman known as the night had worn her black dress. It’s pitch back color was blocking the rays of sun from lightening the streets. And the moon wasn’t there to help that day, since the woman known as the night had chosen to not to wear her pendant for some reason.

But it was still fine, the child could still see the path with the help of the dim lights emanating from the street lamps. It didn’t feel as safe as the sunlight, but it would have to do. No, the child needed the sun for another reason; a reason bigger than the darkness.

The cold.

With nothing but gossamer pieces of clothing on, the little one had been wandering through the streets of the neighborhood alone for nearly the whole day. The choice of not returning to the house was becoming more impossible as the seconds passed, but the five year old did not want to make the critical decision of turning back.

‘You were always destined to turn back from the start…’, the voice echoing in the little mind spoke. 'You just don’t want to be a quitter.’

The voice was right, there was no way a five year old could strive in these streets alone. The child was shivering from the cold, hadn’t drunk or eaten anything since the night before and the fact that the house wasn’t that far away made it even more irresistible to go back.

And it was scary outside, the fact that there could have been even more dangerous creatures than the “it” lurking around made the child feel nauseous.

It was mandatory to go back that hell.

Sighing, the little feet turned back and started running towards the house where all of the nightmares were born. 'I won’t stay…’, the child thought. 'I will just grab some food and clothes without waking them up.’

Passing through the streets, only one threat was still lingering around the child’s head: the “it”. He usually invaded the house at night and if he caught his runaway offspring the consequences wouldn’t have been pretty. Nevertheless, the child continued to run; it was not like there was a chance of staying outside that hell. If there was, all of the siblings would had done it by that time.

As soon as the roof of the house was visible to the eye, the child stopped running. Instead, walked slowly; for preventing anyone to notice the unfamiliar movement in the neighborhood.

Tiptoeing towards the garden door, the child realized it was impossible for a person in this size to open the door by themselves. The heavy door could creak and waste every struggle of staying quiet as well.

So, instead of passing through the entrance, the child climbed up the cold bricked wall. It wasn’t as hard as it looked, but coming down wouldn’t have been that easy. Holding the edge of the wall, the little figure jumped and hanged from the edge of the wall. Careful to not to make a sound, the child dropped onto the smooth surface of wet grass, tiptoeing towards the back of the building to find an open window from which one can sneak in after standing up.

The child knew there was an open window, because big sis always slept with her window open. The child reached to the back of the house, praying while looking around to find where big sis’ bedroom was. Seeing the window wasn’t closed, the little one squealed in delight: now all that was left to do was to sneak in without waking big sis up.

The window was quite high, but not as high as the wall that had just been climbed. Jumping as high as possible, the little one held onto the windowsill and pulled the small body up. After throwing the right leg in the room, the child pushed the little weight forward.

But the force applied was apparently too much.

The child fell forward with a loud thud, crashing onto the wooden parquet head first in the process. Moaning in pain, the small hand rubbed the little head as the child grunted and wobbling, barely managed to stand up. The little one had to wait for the dizziness to go away for a few seconds.

It was then when the child remembered that it was dangerous to make any noises.

Panicking, the horrified eyes started searching the room for any person who noticed the existence of their sibling; though there were absolutely none. Big sis wasn’t in the room. The child bent down and looked under the bed, just for insurance. She wasn’t there either.

Then where was she?

The impact of the realization hit the child like a brick as the small frame froze while looking at the empty bed of big sis.

There could be a few reasons why she wasn’t there. She could be in the toilet, or she had been thirsty and went downstairs to grab some water. Both of those possibilities were very slim since the children of the household were always forced to be extra careful about the times they left their rooms. The “it” could enter that house at anytime and no one would have wanted to be the first person he came across under no circumstances.

The other possibility was that she was hiding. Hiding with the other children, from the “it” himself. The child couldn’t hear mommy’s screams, that probably meant the “it” had already started looking for them. The game of hide and seek had already begun.

Just to be sure, the child exited big sis’ room to look at big bro’s. Much to the child’s dismay, big bro was nowhere to be seen as well. Then that meant it was dangerous to be alone at that moment. Wanting to find where the others were, the child stepped into the empty hall. This time the little one knew where to start: the baby’s bedroom.

Passing through the red carpet covered halls, the child was all ears in case of an emergency. The baby’s room was upstairs, so the little feet headed towards the stairs; scared the wooden parquet might creak any time. As soon as the first step was taken, a blood curdling creaking sound echoed through the halls; making the child freeze abruptly. Thinking that the “it” had probably heard it and was getting closer anyway, the child immediately started running up the stairs. After the little one finally made it to the second floor without getting caught, the little one’s ears were pricked up; knowing the “it” probably was heading towards the staircase.

The child quickly proceeded to wobble towards the baby’s room, but realized something was off.

There was no sign of the “it”.

That monster usually couldn’t walk straight, for someone who was that sloppy he was awfully quiet that night. Suddenly, the reason dawned on the child.

'He is waiting for me somewhere.’

Tiptoeing on the soft carpet, the child approached to the baby’s room, shivering in fear. It’s door was closed and not a single sound could be heard behind it. The child propped the little ear on the wooden surface and listened… everything… which was nothing.

Faintheartedly, the child’s hand clutched around the metal handle as it was pushed down. The door slowly opened, quietly creaking as the little one looked around for anything out of ordinary in the ink dark room.

The only reason one could see anything in that dark mess was the dim light emanating somewhere from the street through a small window. Thanks to that dim light, the crib of the baby was partially visible. In the crib, one could notice an odd silhouette. The child thought it was the sleeping form of the infant at first, but quickly changed the absurd thought; as the smudgy form of darkness laying on the mattress was a little odd to be of an human child’s. It possibly was a heap of clothes, scattered around in the crib.

The child looked around to see any clues pointing to the siblings’ presence in the room though, there weren’t any. 'Then…’, the child wondered. 'If they’re not here, where are they?“

The little body turned around to face the wide open door, aiming to exit the overly dark room to find the other children.

It happened right then.

Suddenly; a small, round object was thrown at the little one’s arms. With a quick reflex, the child caught it; wrapping the arms around the round object. It was impossible to deduce what it was in a darkness like that one, but the child didn’t care about the object at that moment.

The place where it was thrown from was far more concerning.

The frightened eyes opened wide when the door moved. A nerve racking creak resounded in the room as blood curling giggles filled the child’s ears. It wasn’t necessary to lift one’s head and look, in order to know who awaited behind that door. Now that the mysterious identity of the person who had thrown the object was solved, the child was more interested in what the object was. The round, warm… and slightly wet object.

The sudden impact of a strong beam of light, hit the child right in the eyes; stopping the little fingers’ quest to identify the round thing under them. The child’s eyes were squinted as everything was lost in a mass of whiteness for a couple of seconds. When the eyes finally got used to the luminescence; the child distinguished the "it"s figure, sticking out his head from behind the door as he chuckled at his offspring’s helplessness. He held a torch in his right hand while he was pointing it at the little one; laughing like the high madman he was as he started to turn it’s switch on and off intermittently, making the light flicker on the horrified face.

The flickering beam of light kept the child’s attention on itself, until the hypnotized eyes noticed the thing he held in his other hand.

There, he had grasped a bloody kitchen knife by it’s handle.

Gasping, the child faintheartedly looked at the round object as the little hands started shaking, afraid the things that would have been seen.

The thing the little one saw was a nightmare come to life.

Frozen look, red stained wet skin, stopped movement and unbearable silence… those things were what the object was. The child, still clutching onto the warm and wet bundle, turned towards the silhouette on the crib; now, under the light of the torch, saw the red stains. That thing was indeed a human baby, the only reason the child thought it couldn’t be was…

The fact that it didn’t have a head.

As everything downed upon the child, a lamentable shriek erupted from the small mouth. As the round thing fell onto the parquet, a loud thud was heard.

That thud was the thing that brought the child back to life and without thinking, the little feet sprang forward to flee away from the room. The "it” swung the blade in the air as the child was about to escape, creating a deep slash on the narrow back. That didn’t effect anything, since the child was unable to feel anything at that point. Screaming, the child fell down the stairs. A cracking sound resonated through the house, but the child didn’t feel it, couldn’t see a thing and didn’t hear anything but loud whimpers. The only image that could be seen was the baby’s frozen look on it’s eyes, still lingering in the little one’s mind. The only thing that could be felt was panic. The only way to stop the whimpers was beating the panic and frankly, that was not going to happen.

The child stumbled through the halls of the first floor, having a hysteria attack, having no idea where to head. The monster was close, still giggling and the child knew there was no escape this time.

He was going to have some fun.

The little feet stumbled on the carpet, as if everything was nothing but a horrible dream. As the whimpers slowly started to die down, one could hear the giggles getting closer. The child didn’t have any power left in the legs and the eyelids were slowly closing.

'Come on, you can’t faint now…’

But the child collapsed. Not due to losing consciousness, no… but due to tripping on something. Looking at the thing blocking the hall, a sob escaped the little one’s lips.

There, lied down the lifeless body of mommy. Her hair scattered around and her clothes torn here and there, she looked more pitiful than she had ever been before. The child’s attention was caught by the deep slash on her throat, where her blood stopped oozing from long ago. A pool of dried blood had formed around her, emanating a nauseating smell. Through her torn shirt, the child distinguished the handle of her butterfly knife; though not a single drop of blood was staining it.

'Even when he was slaughtering your children, you just couldn’t bring yourself to harm him, could you?’

Taking the butterfly knife with shaking hands; the child ran away then, without sparing another glance at mommy. Heading towards the living room, the little one was clueless about what to do. Maybe it was possible to flee from one of the windows there before the “it” had even more fun.

But as soon as the child took the first step into the living room, all of the possible plans of escaping were erased from the horizon.

It was mommy’s knitting kit, the bag had fallen down, the contents inside scattered on the floor. Big bro was lying near the contents, a visible slash on his cheekbone, bleeding from his head; as his eyes were wide open. A little amount of blood could be seen on the corner of the table as well. On the grey sofa near him, someone else -big sis- looked like she was sitting. But her eyes also were wide open and she moved no more. The child, world spinning around the little head, approached to big sis’ body. Then saw it.

A knitting needle was stabbed through her neck. Not “on”, but “through”.

The child couldn’t resist the shock anymore. Screaming, the small frame collapsed on the knitting kit’s pieces. Some of them pricked the sensitive skin, drawing a little amount of blood. But neither the pricked skin, nor the broken bone or the deep cut on the back could separate the child’s eyes with big sis’ wound. While still sobbing, the “it"s raspy voice was heard:

"Oh don’t be so surprised my birdie… What? Did you really think I wouldn’t punish everyone who let my successor get away? Put the empire I built at risk?”

'They’re dead because of me…’ thought the child, mentally in pain. 'If I didn’t escape, they…’

Finally remembering the “it” was coming close, the child ducked behind the sofa; some of the pieces of the kit rolling towards the child along with it's body. The child heard footsteps coming closer, as the monsters’ voice filled the room.

“I am starting to think that even you are not worth of my time birdie…” he sang as he twirled the knife around in his hand. The child felt the butterfly knife get heavier in the little hand’s grip as the “it” approached to the sofa, whistling. He already knew his offspring hid behind it. He wanted to play with the child a little.

All of a sudden, a silver light flew past his ear.

The “it” slightly jumped in terror, looking at the butterfly knife struck in the wall behind him, dumbfounded. After looking at the knife which had almost killed him for a few seconds, he cracked up. Holding his stomach, the “it” started laughing like a maniac; god knows why.

Freezing behind the sofa, the child knew it was done. The only weapon that could be used to defend the little one against that monster was thrown away. It didn’t even manage to cut his skin a little. The child shivered in fear, at loss of what to do next.

The madman chuckled as he stumbled towards the sofa, where his daughter’s corpse sat on with a knitting needle in her neck. He could smell the five year old’s fear; he could hear the clinking sound of the glass bottle holding his offspring’s sanity, wobbling on the edge of the precipice known as madness, ready to fall just with a little push.

So he started singing, making up the words; he had heard his late wife humming this melody before to the children; probably a sweet memory for them. The “it” would make sure that wouldn’t have been the case anymore.

There was a little birdie always wanting to fly, So it jumped from a tree that was way too high. When the next day came and the animals looked around,

They found little Harleen bleeding on the ground.

Something snapped right then, in little Harleen’s mind. Her silent whimpers died down, the trembling in her hands stopped, the tears flowing down her puffy cheeks started to dry. She didn’t try to run away, though she didn’t continue staying behind that sofa. She just abruptly stood up and came out from the place she had been hiding. Standing right next to her sister’s corpse, she faced her father.

The man who she had thought 'was’ a terrifying 'ghoul’ which visited their house to haunt them every night, rather than her 'father’; looked at his creation in the eye. He’d be proud of the state she was in normally, but his drug induced mind and her hatred towards him didn’t allow him to do anything but kill her. He had tried to change Harleen before, make her like himself. He’d injected tormenting drugs into her body; including one which was used in World Wars, to permanently damage the mind of the enemy’s soldiers by pain, in order to obtain more information from them. The soldiers whom were given this injection were far from being able to control what they said or did, turning them into human puppets.

When he injected this drug he obtained to little Harleen; she screamed in pain, obviously, the drug was doing it’s job.

But instead of turning into a puppet of the madman; the girl became violent, almost like a wild animal, attacking everything on her way. She was not giving in, she could not be controlled.

That wobbling bottle was never going to fall into that precipice known as madness like he wanted it to.

But the “it” hadn’t realized that something snapped in Harleen seconds ago. Her long and curly hair disheveled, covering most of her face; clothes torn and covered in blood; blue eyes screaming murder and knees trembling from the blood loss… the “it” admired the blood staining her almost snow-like skin, she finally started to look like him… too bad she had to die.

“You want me to be your heiress daddy, be like you?”, the little girl chimed.

Her voice startled the “it”, for two reasons. First, she never called him daddy; second, her voice didn’t sound like her, it was too… high.

“Well, I figure you do.”, Harleen continued. She looked at her right, where her sister’s corpse stood. She reached out and touched the tip of the knitting needle buried in her neck and giggled. Weird, since the “it” didn’t see her smile or move her mouth as she did that. “But you must have been careful about what you wished for.”, she grabbed the needle by it’s tip as she grinned at the madman. “You of all people must know better about who my father is, who 'you’ are…”

Harleen suddenly pulled the blood soaked knitting needle out. The madman didn’t have much time to react, her first attack was too quick. He felt a stinging pain on the hand he held the knife. The knife flew back as he threw it in pain, hitting the wall and falling on the floor. The “it” looked at his hand, hissing as he saw the place Harleen pricked him.

Growling, he decided he’d do just fine, attacking her bare handed. He lunched forward, grabbing the child by her waist as his other hand held her hand holding the needle. He lifted her up, trying to yank the weapon away from her hand. The needle was on their eye level, with it’s sharp end pointing towards the madman. They struggled for a few seconds, as the child managed to resist him by pulling the needle towards herself with both hands. After a few seconds, the “it” started to wonder why Harleen was smirking.

All of a sudden, she let go of the needle.

Already having been pulling the needle towards himself for a while, the madman did not expect the sudden disappearance of the counter force that used to keep the weapon in place. So, he could not do anything as he, himself, pricked his own left eye by pulling the needle towards himself. He let out a vehement scream as his grip on the child and the weapon loosened, yet, her grip on him didn’t.

Holding on his right shoulder with her left arm, the child used her other hand to press the needle deeper in his eye. She felt the spine chilling feeling of his sphenoid bone being scratched by the sharp end of the needle. She then pulled it off quickly and jumped down, as the madman stumbled back in pain; hitting the wall behind him. He slumped down on his butt, one hand pressing on his bleeding wound as a ear deafening shriek was heard. Harleen approached him, like an eagle flying towards a snake.

The “it” looked at the monster he had created, with the eye he could still see with. Her eyes had lost their focus point, her knees were shaking, the corner of her mouth twitching as if she was smiling.

It was like the times he gave her that drug. She had turned into a bloodthirsty animal.

Harleen launched forward, with the knitting needle still in her hand. She stabbed him in the shoulder, using both of her hands to bury it deep enough. The madman tried to get her off himself, but was stopped with a terrible string of pain caused by Harleen suddenly pulling the needle out. Everytime he tried to push her away, he was met with the sharp end of a blade. When he tried to protest, the little girl waved the weapon around randomly and god knew he didn’t want to loose his other eye as well.

Then he noticed the kitchen knife. The knife he threw away when Harleen first pricked him. The knife which fell on the floor after it was thrown at the wall.

His fingers creeped towards the knife’s handle as another stab landed on his thigh. He gritted his teeth, trying to bear the tormenting pain and grabbed the wooden handle of the knife. He smiled to himself, thinking he’d finally win. Until he felt someone’s stare.

He turned towards Harleen, who had noticed the knife he held in his hand. Her look was frozen, like there wasn’t any kind of soul behind those blue eyes. Her gaze landed on his eyes, her face having the same soulless expression. They looked at each other for a bare second, then both of them attacked.

Raising his arm, the “it” aimed to bury the knife in her chest before that knitting needle could do any more harm. He knew Harleen was dead the point he got the hold of his knife. There was no way a five year old could be faster than him.

But the feeling of the pointy metal on his Adams apple proved him wrong.

And that was one of the only sensation he ever got to feel after.

An animalistic growl ripped from the back of Harleen’s throat as she pushed the needle deeper. The monster’s knife holding hand froze in midair, a wave of pulsation passed through it, as the “it” grunted in shock. He moaned, without being able to speak, but clearly begging his daughter to stop.

But the child’s mind was oblivious to any kind of outside context at that point. The individual behind her eyes was locked up deep inside. Unable to show any mercy.

Not that she would show any if she was in her right mind anyway.

So she pushed it deeper, as she started screaming. She couldn’t hear the man’s grunts, she couldn’t hear the flesh being torn apart; although it had been her only dream to feel him suffer. Soon, his body went limp under hers and his hand which grabbed the knife fell on the floor with a loud clack. His fingers around it’s handle loosened when Harleen pulled the needle out in one swift motion.

Tears concluding her vision, her own screams and sobs echoing in her brain and the wet and sticky feeling of blood taking over her skin; the child did not realize he was already dead. She didn’t even remember the difference between the dead and the alive.

So she continued, not caring about the blood loss and nausea, she just continued pricking him. Harleen couldn’t stop anymore; she stabbed his chest, his other eye, his forehead… over and over again as multiple sobs shook her body.

When her mind had snapped, the bottle didn’t fall down into the precipice of madness, as madness wanted it to. It all backfired, so instead of falling; the bottle engulfed everything inside, including the precipice. But now; since it engulfed everything else, the bottle stood there… In the middle of a mass nothingness.

***

Edgar Beowulf had been a dead man for fourteen years. Was he sick? Yes, very. Was the problem in his liver since he had been drinking a lot for the past couple of years? Maybe, not incurable though. Was the real problem in his heart? Yes, he swore he had a hole in the middle of it. He knew alcohol wouldn’t fix it but if he was drunk enough, he could still imagine his heart was a whole.

He had been trying to find where that missing piece went for fourteen years, but after all of his struggles he always came back empty handed. The great Severe Edgar; who was known for knowing everything, did not have a clue about where that missing piece of his heart had gone. His henchmen worked so hard to make him happy, since they had a great amount of respect for the mafia boss, but no one could. They couldn’t even make themselves happy.

Since the piece missing from Edgar’s heart was also a part of their hearts, they missed it.

Therefore, the great empire of Edgar Beowulf had been dying like it’s emperor and their main hideout that had always been the symbol of power had turned into a funeral home.

The old man refilled his shot glass one more time, immediately downing the tequila right after. He was in his office, where no one could see anyone due to the thick cigarette smoke. He had bags under his eyes and his eyebrows were knitted, making him look at least ten years older than he actually was. His hair had turned completely white and he had scars on his wrist. He was humming a melody, a pleasant memory from the times of his youth. He remembered the days he sang this nursery rhyme to the baby in his arms.

The little treasure of his life.

That little girl of his, was always worth a lot more than his great empire of knowledge. She had grown into a beautiful woman as the time passed, admired by all mafia organizations. She was known by the nickname, “Silver”. She had the ability to draw her knives out so quickly that all one could see is a silver light, shining in front of their eyes before they gave in to the eternity of darkness. Edgar could remember the days he taught her how to use a knife: the little girl would wake him up in the middle of the night; ecstatic; to tell him that she would finally hit the hundred points on the target board this time, as he patiently watched her, trying not to burst her bubble. He’d then have to comfort her as she cried, after hundreds of unsuccessful tries.

Damn, just how much he had missed those days…

It had all started with that man… the bastard was nothing more than an undisciplined drug lord. The thing he wanted to hire Edgar for was elementary for an emperor like him and it brought him easy money. So, he accepted his job offer.

Oh, how foolish he was then…

That rookie had started to hang out with his daughter too much, always trying to impress her. At first, he hadn’t interfered; thinking his princess wouldn’t even spare a peasant like him a single look. His thought didn’t change until he caught them making out in his office.

Edgar and his daughter had a huge quarrel that night.

Let’s be honest, Severe Edgar was a jealous father. But he wasn’t a five year old, he was sensible. If he had found a lamp with a genie inside of it, granting him only one wish; he would wish for his daughter’s happiness. Therefore, if she fell in love with a man that really cherished her; he wouldn’t try to keep her away from him. In his fifty three years of lifetime, there were two things that made him feel like he was the luckiest man alive. First was, falling in love with her mother and the second was having her in his arms. Why would he want to prevent her from being as happy as him? He would prefer to be dead if his existence prevented his daughter from being happy.

But he knew that bastard wasn’t the “one”, he was a sociopath who just wanted a pretty face to look at. And Edgar Beowulf wasn’t stupid enough to believe he just “sold” those drugs. He would harm his daughter, for sure.

So, the next day; after he woke up, when he found a note that was left by his daughter saying she had run off with him to get hitched he wasn’t that angry…

He was absolutely terrified.

It wasn’t the feeling of the disappointment and anger after you lose a match, it was when your three year old came dangerously close to the fireplace and reached out it’s little hand, because the fire looked so appealing to it.

But that fear had only lasted a minute or two. Suddenly, Edgar realized who he was. He could stop them before everything went too crazy, he knew everything. He could find where his daughter ran off to. The rookie who took her away was a stupid youngster.

But it didn’t turn out to be as easy as he expected it to be.

No matter what he and his henchmen had done, it didn’t work. His daughter and her good for nothing lover had vanished into thin air! Who in the world could hide something from Severe Edgar and become successful keeping it?

It didn’t matter, his daughter was gone.

Harry Cooper watched as the man he admired sulk in his chair, tired of living. He wasn’t his henchmen before his renowned daughter’s disappearance, so sadly, he only had gotten to see his hero in this state. He had been a part of this empire for just two years, he was still a rookie in the job. He was an expert in infighting and he was quite smart; but sadly he was nothing but more than that, he wasn’t qualified to be his henchman. The truth is, Harry’s father and Edgar used to be best friends in the army, before his father was shot to death. So, when he met Harry two years ago, waiting to be hired as a bodyguard without becoming successful; he took him in with him.

His father told Harry a lot of heroic stories about the man known as Severe Edgar before he was killed, so when Harry met the childhood hero of his in that state; he swore he’d find his daughter and make him happy again. He owed him that.

And he had been working hard for two years without becoming successful.

Until that moment.

His friend had been injured and broke his leg last week, being hospitalized in a small hospital in Gotham for a few days. When he went there to visit him, he saw a woman running past the halls while crying and he could swear she was identical to the one he saw in those photographs hanging all around in the office of Edgar. When he asked a nurse about the woman, all he could get was that she was just here to visit her daughter who was also hospitalized here.

But he didn’t stop there.

With the right amount of money, he managed to make one of the rookie doctors speak. Harry learned that the little girl was in a bad condition and everyone knew that her father had beaten her up this way. But no one could speak up since everyone feared him for some reason. He also managed to get the family’s home address from the patient’s file when the doctor wasn’t looking.

He cleared his throat suddenly, making Edgar Beowulf raise his head faint heartedly to look at him.

“I have a lead, sir.”

***

Forty five armed men had surrounded the house, waiting for the signal to attack. Twenty snipers had broken into other houses to have a better view of the house. There seemed to be no movements inside, so everyone was probably sleeping. They didn’t want to wake the whole neighborhood up, since it could just be a false alarm; so they climbed the wall surrounding the garden and looked for other entrances that didn’t involve blowing up the front door.

Harry was the first too see the open window.

With a signal of his hand, Edgar and twenty of his henchmen crawled on the wet grass with guns in their hands, like a swat team. Harry climbed first and looked at the room he was in. It seemed like a teen girl’s room by the looks of it, but it was empty.

“Clear.”, he whispered as the other henchmen continued to pour inside. Just as he was about to exit the room, Edgar put his hand on his shoulder; leaning closer to him as he whispered: “Take ten of them with you.”, he pointed at the goons, “…and search the first floor. We will cover the ground floor.”

Harry nodded and signaled half of the twenty men to escort him upstairs. They exited the bedroom together, passing through the hall covered in red carpet. Fortunately, the hall opened directly to the staircase. Two of the henchmen got ahead of Harry as they held their guns in shooting positions. As soon as one of them took his first step on the stairs, the goons were startled by the creaking sound which echoed through the halls. Almost immediately, the three men on the back of the crowd; turned back as they aimed their guns at the obscurity of the darkness, guarding their back in case someone dangerous had heard the creak.

The two goons at the front checked the floor and signaled Harry and the others to come. Harry clenched his fist, climbing up the stairs as he cocked his ear for any kind of sound. The seven other men climbed up the stairs as well and looked at Harry, waiting for the gesture of his hand.

As soon as he gave them the permission, ten men invaded the floor; splitting up into two and running to the ends of the hall. They would start searching from the ends, till they would meet in the middle. Room by room, the goons quietly opened the doors to see if anyone was inside.

Harry waited them in the middle, where the staircase stood, he had to guard the stairs. He aimed at the stairway, waiting for any unknown face to appear.

But the door behind him, right in the middle of the floor ;which was slightly left ajar; weirdly intrigued him. Even after the years that would pass, Harry would never be able to explain why he left guarding the stairs; but instead opened that door to check inside. It was as if the room was calling him, telling that something wrong had happened there. So, as his instincts kicked in, he reached out his hand and pushed the door open.

His feet hit something soft after he walked in there. He tried to see what it was, but the room was too dark for him to see anything at all. He grabbled around for a light switch on the wall. When he felt the cold plastic at the tip of his fingers, he pressed on it as the room filled with light. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the light, as the other goons noticed the light.

Then they heard Harry gasp.

They ran to him, panicking; when they found him in the room, staring at the ground in shock. Three of them pulled him out of the room, getting ahead of him as they unknowingly pointed their guns at the object he was looking at, thinking it was something dangerous.

The one with the long hair vomited first.

There lied a severed head of an infant. With her blue eyes, staring right at them, her jaw was slightly dislocated, blood dried on her neck area. Ten men were hypnotized and frankly, frightened; they couldn’t get their eyes off the baby, until Harry woke them up from their trance.

Walking towards the crib, Harry got the attention of all the goons in the room. In the crib, laid the baby’s headless corpse; wearing an onesie decorated with yellow baby chicks. The henchmen held their guns down, completely forgetting their own safety as they watched the traumatizing scene unfolding in front of them. Until another nightmare woke them up from this horrible nightmare.

Edgar Beowulf’s animalistic scream.

They immediately ran to where the sound came from. They all knew the scene they would see, but still, they were not ready for it. As they came closer, hearing the sobs, they knew their biggest nightmare had come to life.

The thing they saw first was Edgar’s trembling body, crouched down. He held a woman in his embrace, they could see her legs. After Harry saw the baby upstairs, he didn’t want to see the corpse of the woman. Everyone understood who she was. The ten goons headed towards the other crowd of henchmen, finally seeing what they never wanted to see.

Edgar hugged his dead daughter’s corpse, caressing her hair while having a breakdown. Her throat was slit, blood staining her father’s clothes. All of the henchmen were looking at their boss with visible worry in their eyes. Severe Edgar closed his daughter’s eyes with his fingers as he kissed her fingertips one by one. It was right then, he saw that thing.

The wedding band on her ring finger.

Roaring like a madman, he took the ring off and threw it away. He left his daughter’s lifeless body on the hall’s carpet, heading towards the only place he hadn’t searched: the living room. His goons shouted in terror, it was dangerous for him to go in head first, without having his weapon ready, in that state. Harry, knowing nothing would stop him at that point, ran towards him; aiming to assist him. Quickly, the others followed; barging into the living room together.

The first thing they saw with the help of the light emanating from the window was the teenage girl’s body, bleeding from her neck. Then they noticed the young boy on the floor, laying on top of colorful yarns and needles scattered around. They stared at the horrible scene in front of them until they heard the sound.

Splurt…

A weird, disgusting sound; coming from right beside them. One of the goons turned on the light switch as where the sound came from was revealed.

A little girl, in a blue dress, hair disheveled leaned onto the body of a… man. Though at least a thousand witnesses would be required to call that tattered and torn mass of human flesh a “man”.

Splurt…

The girl had done it again. Raising the huge knitting needle in her hand, she stabbed the mass of human flesh; making the goons understand the reason of the man’s corpse’s condition.

The girl had riddled him to death. Harry wondered how many stabs it took to turn his body into that state. His attention was then turned towards the huge slit on her back, blood still oozing from it. The girl seemed to be dizzy from the blood loss, yet, she didn’t stop.

Edgar was frozen in his spot, unable to move. He stare at the scene before him. Had this little girl killed his daughter? Impossible… Who was she? Why was she doing th…

His thoughts were disturbed by the thing he saw. The riddled man’s corpse. He looked at his hand, seeing the wedding band and the knife resting on top of his palm. No doubt it was used to slit his daughter’s throat. He stumbled towards the corpse and it’s killer, stuttering:

“Stop… you killed him already.”

The girl turned her head towards the men standing before her in one swift motion. Her eyes were full of determination and hatred, but her expression changed into shock soon after. It was like… she hadn’t realized they had been here for a while. She looked at Edgar with the same expression on her countenance, then turned back to what she was doing; as if she stilldidn’t realize he had been already dead.

Edgar gasped when he saw the child’s face, a complete replica of his daughter’s. He felt weak on the knees and fell on them as he continued to look at the blood leaking from her back.

Harry saw the little girl get dizzy, when her hand trembled as she was about to stab the corpse one more time. He launched forward, to yank the weapon away from her hand. The girl saw what he was doing out of the corner of her eye and jumped off the corpse. She waved the needle at him while she screamed like an animal, cutting his hand as he was yanked away by the other henchmen in the room.

It seemed his action had awakened something in her. Without stopping screaming, she held the needle with both hands an started pricking the corpse faster. She landed a stab on him every second and every time she landed a stab on him, she grunted. The henchmen noticed her lips quivering and her left eye twitching as a shriek escaped her mouth. There was no emotion behind her eyes, except hatred. Harry regained his composure as he approached the girl to try one more time, but was stopped by the trembling hand of his boss.

Edgar had slowly crawled on fours towards the child. As she was fully focused on killing the monster completely, he reached out and put his hand on her head; slowly caressing her hair. The girl’s body stiffened for a second and she opened her mouth to scream again, but was stopped by Edgar’s agonized voice:

“I’m sorry…”

Her body shivered as the pauses between her stabs became longer. Edgar crawled towards her, getting even closer. He caressed her cheek gently, before holding her hair away from her face. The next time he spoke, the tears in his eyes were audible in his voice, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner…”. The girl was started silently sobbing as well, the hateful expression on her face changing into a surprised one again: she couldn’t understand why she was crying, she didn’t know who these men were, she didn’t know what she was doing.

She didn’t know who she was.

“You can stop…”, he continued.

No, she didn’t want to stop. He was a curse, the moment she stopped he would haunt her again. She didn’t want to see his face, she was afraid she would remember it all again.

A stab landed on the man’s face.

He was unstoppable… she would be as well. He would follow her to her dreams, turning them into nightmares again. She was the only one left for him to hurt. The only one… that’s right… he couldn’t hurt mommy anymore, since mommy could love him no more.

“He can’t hurt 'you’ anymore.”, Edgar sobbed.

The needle in her hand fell down, as soon as those words left Edgar’s mouth. Harleen turned towards the old man and looked at him with tears in her eyes, those eyes pleading him to tell her those were all just terrible dreams.

But Harleen didn’t need to hear the truth from his mouth to see it. Her eyes just focused on the sofa behind the man, where she saw her sibling’s corpses. Her eyes glued onto the hole on her sister’s neck, she suddenly remembered how she got her weapon.

And then screamed in terror.

Edgar Beowulf took his granddaughter in his embrace, holding her wrists to prevent her from clawing her own face and burying her face in his chest as he patted on the little girl’s hair. Intermittent sobs were shaking her whole body, as she was having an hysteria crisis. As dizziness started to overpower her consciousness the whimpers died down. Edgar left her wrists, as they embraced each other while crying, in front of the monster who took their life away from them. The old man wiped the blood away from the snow white skin as he kissed her cheek.

The henchmen were at loss of what to do, before Harry Cooper came forward: taking off his jacket as he loosely put it on them. He looked at them for a few seconds, until he felt a slight movement from behind the window.

He turned towards the window, the white things he saw filling his heart with even more sorrow.

And at that night, the Emperor embraced the only thing left for him to continue living, as the first snowflakes of the year landed on the roof of a giant cemetery.

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Guys, I am so sorry if I made you sad, but since the first chapter this kinda was my plan. Either way, did you think the child’s story would turn out this way? Do you understand the reason behind Edgar’s protectiveness? I hope you’ll be happy to hear that you’ll get to learn Chaos’ identity in the next chapter. Btw, let me clarify: the drug the “it” did was meth; which, against common belief; causes only minor hallucinations due to sleep deprivation. So, when he heard Harleen giggle when in fact she hadn’t moved her mouth; when he heard her voice a couple notes higher and when he saw her smirk as she was pulling the needle away… those were all minor hallucinations, Harleen wasn’t that creepy…

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