Jerome had tied Rory down in the audience of the circus ring. He made sure that she could be able to watch his work. He didn't want to risk anything when it came to her trying to escape and needed to make sure he had an eye on her at all times. She was handcuffed to the floor, so even if should tried to run, she couldn't. Jerome watched as she pulled and pushed against the restraints, the burning feeling of power quickly increasing every time he made eye contact with her. How could he have forgotten someone so important, so special. She belonged to him, and he had forgotten all about her.

This forgetfulness he blamed on Bruce, as Bruce was the last thing he could remember clearly. Bruce and chaos and Arkham. As Jerome danced around the circus ring, laughing and entertaining the crowd by throwing knives and nails into the cannon, memories of his past came back to him slowly, filling him with more evil and chaotic energy.

Rory was at the centre of all these thoughts. His memories of her loving him fuelled this insanity that poured out of him. She was how he was going to take everything. She was the key to making Gotham his. He could see it as he poured darts and bullets into the cannon, the crowd of manic buffoons dancing to his tune. He would destroy the world and Rory would be at his side, always. He laughed at this, his cackle deep and long. She will never leave me again.