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chapter twenty-nine ━ cold metal meets blood-soaked skin

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❝ he's dead ❞

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ALFRED NEVER CAME back, leaving the two of them to sit in the study until he came back. Still, after several hours, he never did. An awkward silence filled the space, neither saying much because there was nothing else to say. Bruce was clearly embarrassed about the kiss they had, even though it was nothing but a quick peck. Skylar was not as ashamed, acting casual. However, it had clearly been his first kiss so she completely understood why each time she glanced over at him, his cheeks went red and he ducked his head. So, to avoid conversation, he was reading a book. She was laying on the other couch on one of his laptops, watching try not to laugh compilations. And in doing so, she came to the realization that she is dead inside. She laughed once. And it was not a laugh, it was quiet sound of amusement.

Six in the early morning rolled around and Skylar was dead asleep for once, not making any noises. Bruce was asleep on the other couch, his book open, laying on his chest. He snored softly. The balcony window opened, allowing a chilling breeze inside the manor. The two shivered unconsciously, but then the female opened her eyes slowly, yawning.

She sat up and came face to face with a hooded figure. Instinctively, she went to scream, her hands grabbing onto anything she could use as a weapon. Why she decided to put her knife on the coffee table and not on her person, she did not know and instantly regretted her poor choice.

The person covered her mouth with a gloved hand, throwing a bag over her head, then picked her up, swinging her over their shoulder. Through the black hood the mysterious character put on her, she could vaguely see Bruce fighting back as well, kicking his legs, trying to yell for help. Neither gave up, not staying still, not even when their ankles and wrists were bound, their mouths duck-taped, the crushing grip on them making it hard to squirm, all which rendered the two powerless.

From what she heard and could see, there were many hooded figures. They were carried the whole way, never once got into a car or a sketchy van. Whoever these people were, knew the city well. Because no one crossed their paths once, not even when they got into the seemingly busy streets. Which meant no one was going to save them. For now at least.

Despite the odds stacked against them, Bruce continued to make several attempts at hitting their kidnappers. Skylar had given up, knowing it was best to save her energy for when they actually had an opportunity to escape. She was thinking ahead, he was not. At this point, she was used to being kidnapped, so she honestly was not shocked anymore. Everyone wanted a piece of her, she supposed.

After an hour of god-awful and horrendous traveling, they came to a building, a rather tall one she noted. The figures stepped into an elevator and she was struck with uncertainty. Something was amiss. She felt a sense of familiarity from the layout of the building, her eyes straining against the hardly see-through bag. She had been here before, she could feel it. And then they got off the elevator, the figures setting them on the floor, but dragging them.

If she was not prevented from speaking, she would have gasped. Because now she knew where she was. That golden statue that sat by the window, the female statue's back arched in an elegant way, a glowing globe in her outstretched right palm. The teenagers were let go. The hoods removed.

Theo Galavan stood before them with a proud expression on his face. His navy blue suit a sign of immense power and strength. Authority. He was behind this. The look in his eyes could not be described by using a word, other than smug. He was utterly smug. Almost as if his grand plan was finally coming together and no doubt it was. Because first, he gathered the Arkham inmates, then he became a hero in Gotham's eyes, and then he tried taking Bruce's company. It was all part of his scheme.

Jerome's death was part of his scheme.

The two were sat in chairs, their ankles released, as well as the tape over their mouths, leaving only their wrists bound. Skylar felt her body tense up, her eyes narrowing, her lips set in a thin line. Being face to face with Galavan made her realize how much anger she still had bottled up. Anger that had yet to be released.

"You two okay?" He asked, his tone uncaring so she wondered why he was even asking, adding in a, "Glass of water?"

"Go fuck yourself," Skylar snapped, her voice booming, yet weak compared to his domineering one. She shook her head and taking note of Bruce's jump at her harsh language, she was making quite an impression. "He is not signing over his company, so why don't you let us go and continue sitting on that fake ass throne of yours?"

He tsked, walking towards her. He bent forward so his face was close to her's, the very action unnerving to her. Still, Skylar did not allow him to scare her, meeting his gaze, challenging him, even though she had no control over him, she had no leverage. Because even if she did want to tell the GCPD about Galavan, they would never believe her and even if they did, it was too late now. He would never allow her to tell.

"You possess no respect for your elders, Miss Valeska," he scolded as if he were a parental figure in her life, which in it of itself was humorous. "Your mother did not teach you well." He stood up straight, clasping his hands behind his back and moved over to Bruce, addressing him. "You're a very brave boy. But I do have to acquire your company by other means." He paused for dramatic effect. "My true name is Dumas. And a long time ago, my family was dishonored and degraded by yours."

Skylar scoffed in amusement, rolling her eyes. "You probably deserved it. Because here you are wearing a mask, fooling innocent people into following a cold-hearted sociopath. It's a shame Bruce's family didn't completely destroy your worthless family."

He slapped her hard across the face, a smack echoing through the room. She barely made a sound but she did jolt. It had been a long time since she had been hit. And yet, she turned her head to stare him straight in the eye and spit in his face. Galavan flinched ever so slightly, wiping the salvia with a handkerchief from his suit pocket, glaring at her. Did he really think she was going to be scared or cry?

"What's truly a shame is that I cannot teach you respect. Because I'm afraid neither of you will live another day." Bruce went wide-eyed, tensing up. "For centuries our noble clan lived in vile, squalid obscurity. But we lived in hope. Because our patron saint spoke of a glorious day to come. But that day would only come when nine men of Gotham and the last son of our mortal enemy are slain by righteous hands." He smiled down at the billionaire boy. "That's you, Bruce. You're the last son."

To help ease the seriousness of the situation, Skylar spoke up again, hoping to also stall just in case someone was coming to save them. "So then why the hell am I here? If Bruce is so important, then why bother kidnapping me?"

He looked back over at her and smirked, pleased to know something she did not. "Oh, my dear, you're just collateral damage. But before you die, you will act as an audience for the sacrifice."

Shit.

Bruce was standing strong despite his evident fear, not saying anything at all. He glanced over at Skylar who was clenching her jaw, trying to calm herself down. But her heart was beating fast and her palms were getting sweaty, her body shaking. All signs of the beginning of an anxiety attack. He gave her a longing look, knowing what was happening. She stared back at him and took subtle deep breathes.

A man entered the room, approaching them slowly. He was elderly, much older than Galavan was. In his hands was a generic black cup and from where she was sitting, she could not tell what was inside. Then he dipped two fingers into it, withdrawing them to reveal a transparent-like liquid. She assumed it was holy water, seeing as this was clearly a cult, so of course, they would be all for purifying and cleansing.

He dragged his two fingers from the middle of Bruce's forehead, down the sides of his nose, and then stopped, standing normally. The kids were confused, Bruce even more so.

"Be glad, boy," the old man spoke, poss You're the anointed redeemer of your family. For seven generations, the Wayne family has wallowed in vice and corruption. So tonight, at the forewarned hour of midnight, the Dumas shall be avenged, and the sins of the Wayne family shall wash away in your blood."

Neither of them said a word. But when Skylar looked over at him, she saw a calmness overcome his features, a softness that could only be explained as tranquil. He was not afraid anymore.

---

Thankfully when they were thrown into their cell, Bruce was the only one that had to change clothes. She had turned around as he put on the neutral, boring robe that was big around his arms and fell all the way to his ankles. The cult followers left her alone, keeping her in her black attire. After that, one guard was stationed at the door and they were left alone.

Skylar was sitting across from him on the floor, her head laying against the wall. Not a single word was spoken between them, only a stretch of silence filled the empty space. He still did not lose grip on his composure, never betraying it, and the fact was shocking, eerie.

"Have to admit, never thought I would die at the hands of a cult," she finally said, cracking a bit of a smile to which he followed suit, clearly thinking the same thing. Even though they were about to die, even though there were still people out there who would be devastated to lose them, she was beginning to feel at peace, just like he was.

"I always thought that I'd die by my own hand," she admitted, clasping her hands together in her lap, staring down at them.

Bruce looked up when she said that, eyebrows furrowing, surprised that she would say such a thing. She could tell without seeing his face. Then he shook his head and got up from the cracked, stone bench, sitting in front of her on his knees, outstretching his hand and placed it over her's.

"Why would you say that?"

She shrugged, scoffing a little, glancing up at him. For once, she did not shove away the affection. It's been a long time since she's felt any. Barbara was gone, so was Jerome, and Selina was not big on hugging or anything of that nature. Maybe she would finally see her brother again or maybe not. Point was, getting some sort of physical attention felt nice.

"Because it's the truth. You cannot begin to imagine the trauma I live with every single day, how hard it is to fall asleep every night, or dealing with the absence of the only people who've taken care of you. I just want everything to stop."

He looked away for a moment, yet his hand stayed there.

"I know," he whispered, looking back at her. "But I have met a lot of people and you are one of the bravest and strongest. You haven't given up and I admire you for that." Bruce's cheek went a little pink, a small smile on his face. "Besides, out of all the people in the world, I could be here with right now. . .I'm glad it's you."

Skylar finally made eye contact with him, in disbelief for what he said. Happy tears made their way down his face and she moved forward, arms around his neck, and hugged him. She sniffled, not letting any tears fall. After a few seconds, he embraced the hug, not fighting back, not recoiling, but welcomed it.

Then she pulled away, wiping her tears and sniffled, laughing a bit.

"You really have a way with words, Wayne." Playfully, she elbowed him, causing him to chuckle. "Seriously, we're both about to die and you're going all romantic on me, please stop." He laughed more and she did the same, pushing her hair back.

The moment died down and they were quiet once more. She was the one to speak up again, wiping the tip of her nose with her sleeve, sniffling one last time. The brunette closed her eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep breath. Her mind was clear, her body relaxed, and her fear started to ease itself. Even though the thought of seeing her brother weighed on her mind, she knew deep down her death would weigh more on her in the afterlife, knowing that her mother could wake up and realize she was dead. And what would happen to Selina?

"We have to get out of here," she told him firmly, standing up.

Bruce blinked as he stood up, looking confused at her sudden change, clearly not expecting her to say that at all. He thought she was ready to die. She had been, but they could not abandon the people they loved, they just couldn't. However, it was too late for an escape.

The cell door opened with an ominous, metal-like creak. Galavan entered and looked at them both, assessing their stance.

"I do hope you two weren't going anywhere because the show is just about to start." He moved to stand outside the door and gestured with his hands for them to exit and go to the left. There was no escape. The hooded figures stood along the walls with guns in their pockets, prepared if one of them decided to make a run for it. She may want to escape, but she was not ignorant, she knew they couldn't outmatch them.

The only thing left to do was pray that they would be saved.

---

The cult was bigger than she had anticipated. They were surrounding them, standing by the walls of the room, while their leader sat on a throne. He honestly looked like he was sitting atop a chair he got from a yard sale. She rolled her eyes when one man yanked her back, making her sit on the floor, a crystal clear sign that to them, she was worthless compared to Bruce. The said boy was led to the middle of the room where a slightly raised platform - in the shape of a circle - stood. Candles were scattered in clumps among them, all lit, adding some light to the otherwise dim area, though there was a chandelier above them. If it weren't for their current circumstance, she would have marveled at the gold lining the walls and the ceiling. It was beautiful.

Galavan approached Bruce, grabbing his arm roughly with an unsettling smile on his face. The monks began to chant in synchronization, their tone dull.

"Death to the Son of Gotham. Death to the Son of Gotham. Death to the Son of Gotham. Death to the Son of Gotham. Death to the Son of Gotham. Death to the Son of Gotham."

Skylar tensed up as she watched Bruce be brought to a pole. Then she turned her head and saw Silver and Tabitha standing nearby, observing the scene. Her eyes narrowed, her fists curling. The blonde bitch had the audacity to look towards her, revealing tear-stained cheeks. What she perplexing is that she actually looked scared, she looked like she was regretting what was happening. They had a conversation with their eyes. Her fists unraveled the second she saw the bruise on the girl's cheek. That surely was not from her.

'I am sorry,' Silver mouthed before anyone else could see.

Even if she wanted the apology to be fake, it wasn't and the brunette could see that. She merely looked away, processing what was about to happen. What could she do? If she fought back, they'd kill her, just like they already planned to do. There had to be a way she could stop the sacrifice.

Bruce's wrists were tied to the pole behind his back, rendering it useless for him to fight back, if he wanted to, which he did not. Galavan stepped back, holding a decorative knife in his hands. The chanting continued and her head began to pound because of it. She was not afraid, angry if anything.

The leader rose from his grandma chair and walked over, carrying a goblet. He stopped suddenly and held up the knife, ceasing the chants instantly. Then he turned and resumed his journey, standing in front of Bruce. The man was eerily calm, as if killing an innocent kid did not faze him in the slightest. She did not bother withholding her disgusted look.

"Prepare yourself, boy."

"You're a deluded, old fool," came the billionaire boy's reply, just as calm, unafraid. "And you'll pay for this."

He said nothing to combat against those words, simply looking up towards the ceiling, announcing loudly, "Ancestors, be our witness. The prophecy is fulfilled." Then as soon as he stopped talking, he rose and knife and got ready to kill Bruce.

Skylar jumped up without much of a thought, shouting, "No!" Everyone looked over at her, some men grabbing her arms in order to hold her back. She yelled and kicked, trying to get out of their grasp.

Out of nowhere, the doors busted open and she looked up to see a rescue team, their rescue team. Oswald appeared with a gun just as the monks got ready to fight. Jim was leading the group, Damon, Alfred, Selina, and other men following, pouring into the room. She kicked the guys who were holding her hostage in the shin before kicking them in the balls.

Her head snapped to the side, watching Galavan race out of the room with Silver and Tabitha. The leader of the cult screamed something and all of the men rushed forward, starting the gunfire. She ducked, trying her best to avoid being shot on accident. Within seconds, everyone single person was on the ground, leaving the leader standing.

Skylar ran to untie Bruce but then the man grabbed her, pulling her back, holding the blade to her throat. She gasped, all of the guns pointing towards her. Her eyes went wide, going stock still. The knife kissed her skin and her blood ran cold. This time she did not move, knowing that if she did, the next body to drop to the ground would be hers.

"Drop the knife, old man," Jim warned. "It's over."

Everyone was staring at her and at that moment she wondered what they were thinking. What would their reactions be if she died? From their expressions, they all were afraid. It was. . .odd. It was strange thinking that they all were scared that they were going to lose her. It meant that she was important to them. And despite the fact that she did not hold deep relationships with them all, they still cared enough to be fearful of losing her.

"So it would seem," the old man spoke simply.

Right as he went to slit her throat, Damon shot his leg, giving Skylar the opportunity to push his arm away from her throat, diving out of the way as her uncle fired another shot, this one at the chest, killing him instantaneously. Everything went quiet after the body slumped to the floor with a thud.

Harvey entered the room panting heavily, limping his way into the room. He put a hand on his hip to stable himself, sighing, "That was a lot of stairs."

Selina came running towards Skylar as Alfred went towards Bruce. The cat-like female helped her stand and then gave her a hug, to which the fellow brunette gladly returned, embracing her tightly.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she breathed.

Skylar smiled a bit and pulled back, clearing her throat, rubbing the area where the knife had been. "Yeah, me too." She looked over at Damon and gave him a tad bit of a smile, thanking him silently. He seemed to understand because he smiled back and nodded, pocketing his gun and started to check for survivors.

Jim stepped forward, his eyes scanning the room. "Where's Galavan?"

She let go of Selina and stepped forward. "He went that way." She jabbed a thumb in the direction of the door she and Bruce had entered through. "I think I know where he went." Then she started walking, Jim and Oswald following her. Alfred was talking with Bruce so he had not noticed she left. But as she was walking away, Selina seemed to understand what was about to happen. So she turned around and exited the other way.

The stairs were easy to get up for her and Jim. Oswald, on the other hand, had to limp his way up, yet was determined to avenge his mother. When they reached the hallway, Jim grabbed her arm and she tensed up, flinching, causing him to let go.

"Skylar-"

"No, I am not leaving until Galavan is dead," she hissed, narrowing her eyes. "I want to watch him die. I deserve it! He killed Jerome and you may have thought he was a terrible person but he was my brother, he was my family." She shook her head. "I'm not some kid, Jim, I never was. You can't make me walk away from this."

He did not like what she had said, disagreeing. "If anyone finds out about what we are doing, we could end up in jail, so would you."

She shrugged. "Then I suppose we'll have to keep things quiet. Selina can say that I left with her, Bruce didn't see me leave, neither did Alfred or anyone else. The only person who saw us come this way is Selina and she wouldn't snitch, trust me. But, if we keep chitchatting, someone is gonna catch us."

"She's got a point, Jim," Oswald chimed in, the two turning to face him. "Let's settle this once and for all, shall we?"

That's exactly what they did. However, they did run into an issue. Captian Barnes had arrived with backup. She and Oswald hid in the room, opposite of the one Galavan was in, peeking through the crack of the door. They could not hear the conversation well but what they did see was Jim dropping his gun and putting his hands behind his head.

And that's when they struck. Oswald knocked Barnes unconscious, as well as the cop he had brought with him. Skylar went towards Galavan and smiled sweetly down at him. "Karma's a bitch." Then, she punched him hard, knocking him out.

---

Jim had driven them to a secluded area, somewhere no one would be able to witness what was about to occur. She got out of the car and realized there was another female already standing nearby. There wasn't a doubt in Skylar's mind that this woman was beautiful, adorned in an expensive chocolate brown to a lighter brown fur coat with a smooth black colored shirt, tight black leather pants, and dark brown boots, the coat covering whatever most of her shirt. She radiated power, confidence. Trouble. A smirk made her way to her lips when she realized Oswald and the female had similar features. However, she was wary.

The detective next to her knew who the woman was already, yet was skeptical of her. The female raised her hands up in surrender when she noticed Skylar's slight uneasiness. "Easy now, love, I'm Charlotte, Oswald's sister." She was confused so the woman provided a quick, easy explanation. "I don't live here but once I heard of my mother's passing, I figured it was time to come back to brother dearest. That's all you need to know."

Skylar tilted her head to the side, curious about her.

Charlotte glanced around before looking back at the teen, her flawless brow arching in response, her ruby-red lips parting as she asked, "You sure you can handle this, love?"

"He killed my brother who killed my abusive, drunk, biological mother with an ax. So yeah, I can handle it."

Jim grabbed Galavan from the trunk, pulling him out roughly and tossed him to the floor. The rich male was handcuffed, blood dripping from the corner of his lips. For once, he actually looked afraid, he was afraid to die, afraid to join his so-called holy ancestors and face them, afraid to tell them of how he failed miserably.

Fuck. It felt so sweet to her, so deserving to be able to witness every second of his death.

"You're a man of conscience, Jim," Theo pointed, attempting to persuade him not to kill him. "You'll regret this."

"I have many regrets." Oswald withdrew a bat from the trunk, tossing it to Skylar who caught it with ease. Charlotte held a knife in her hand. "This won't be top of the list."

Theo was placed on his knees before them, suddenly smug, though there was clear fear in his eyes. "Now, uh. . .here we are. Shame. It's gonna be a beautiful morning. Good-bye, Jim Gordon." The goodbye was meaningless, pointless. Not a single soul in Gotham would care if this man died tragically, no one would bat an eye. So why did he think that saying goodbye would change a damn thing?

Skylar walked forward and stared down at him. "This is for Jerome." And with that, she brought the weapon down. He screamed in pain as she kept hitting him over and over again, blood splattering onto her face and clothes. Yes. Yes. Yes. The sensation was exhilarating. She almost didn't hear his cries of pain over her joy. Finally. Finally. Finally. Even if she only got in eight swings, she felt as if she was hitting him forever, no one ever stopping her.

Someone pulled her back. The bat was taken from her hands. She hardly noticed. Her eyes were transfixed on Galavan. Charlotte stabbed him several times before Oswald began to hit him with the bat, laughing.

"Kill me, please!" Theo begged.

The words did not process in her head. All she heard was the soothing cracks of his bones breaking and the sound of a knife piercing into the same area of the body repeatedly. Skylar was in awe of the sight. The blood no longer made her feel sick. She wanted him dead, she wanted to watch the light leave his eyes.

Jim stepped forward and pulled Oswald back. Charlotte stepped back on her own accord. Together they stood side by side. Skylar admired the blood splattered across his face, that face that no longer looked so fucking smug. He was defeated. He was done.

A shot rang out from Jim's gun, from his hands. Theo stopped struggling, his eyes shutting closed slowly. He took his last breath. And then he was gone. Not a word was spoken after that. Not even when Skylar walked forward, stared down at his body and smiled. There were witnesses to her act of slight insanity. But not a soul knew that when that blade was put to her throat, she was not scared, she was not frightened, and she did not hate it.

In fact, she loved feeling the cold metal against her now blood-soaked skin.

---

I do apologize for how towards the end my writing got a bit fast-paced. I'm not sure what exactly happened. Anyway, this chapter went dark really fast and it is only going to get worse from here so prepare yourself!

Did you guys think Skylar would be present for Galavan's death?

I hope you guys have a great day/night and don't forget to vote on this chapter, comment your thoughts, and follow me for updates!

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