Work Text
When he found out, Jervis was shakened with rage. A rage that reminded him of when he was younger and he had little control over others, and what they thought of himself and his little sister.
He thought about her, and the tears in her eyes, and all he wanted to do was protect her. Except he couldn't not when he was who he was, compeltely bullied by others, and at their mercy.
He wanted them to die. That was the truth of it. He wanted them all to die, and holding his sister in his arms at night, her crying against him with shame and guilt.
She had gotten drunk at a young age with friends she shouldn't have met. They were all backstabbers, hateful people, always jealous of his precious sister. And they had taken pictures of her when she was drunk, a smile on her face, unaware of what was happening.
He was sickened by it.
When she fell asleep, Jervis had gone after them in the night. He knew her friends, saw them and hated them for what they were. His sister, Alice, was only desperate for friends. That's all. She only wanted friends, and they had other plans for her.
So did he. It didn't take long for Jervis to find them, and he knew that if they were going to do drastic things, then he was going to do the same.
He burned their houses to the ground while they slept, and he made sure the parents wouldn't be able to help the little kids inside.
It didn't take long for him to find more people who had her pictures, and he had gone after them as well. He killed them, and when he found the pictures of her, he knew that they should never be for anyone else.
And now, his sister was gone, and he was staring at a grainy looking picture of Jonathan Crane. He was strapped down on a gurney, markings on his face, his shirt was ripped, and he had scarring on him.
The orderlies were making fun of him when he cried out for his mask. They were always bullying someone much younger than they were.
Jervis wasn't going to let them do it.
He had gone into Arkham, waiting his chance to strike, and like the time with his sister, he made sure each man who hurt Jonathan Crane was broken beneath his foot.
Jonathan scrambled for his mask and pulled it on. He breathed heavily, staring at Jervis after he had attacked the last orderly who hurt him.
"You're okay, right, Mr. Crane?" Jervis asked, smiling, as he was being dragged away. Jonathan remained on the floor, watching.
Jervis was simply happy he was able to feel the taste of revenge once again, he savored it, hoping he can taste it again.