Predator. Prey.

"You're right, Doctor."

"I have the fucking joker as my patient!?"

I stormed into Dr. Jensons's office without even planning what I was going to say other than those eight words. I couldn't even believe my eyes when I saw him. To me, the Joker had always been an abstract idea we discussed in seminar at Gotham University: he was a case study in abnormal psych my sophomore year. I never dreamed to even encounter him, didn't he have a specialized psychiatrist, someone trained speficially for nut jobs like him?

"Dr. Jenson, I am honestly just so... I mean...why me?"

He leaned back in his grey chair, smiling with his ever present glimmer of fake enthusiasm.

"Dr. Quinzel, you were hired to replace our last psychiatrist, Dr. Hanover. He was assigned to his case, therefore you will take over where he left off. I am sure this must be exciting news for you!"

"Exciting my ass! This is...insanity."

The rage and confusion of my predicament was overwhelming as I sat in the seat across from him, a thin steel desk separated us. He had chosen not to decorate his room at all.

"Please consider the advantages of your situation, Doctor. Dealing with such an infamous figure as the Joker himself will only further your accomplishments as a new psychiatrist. Think of all the press coverage and media he has attracted over the years. If you managed to treat him, and cure him, think of all the glory and fame that would rain down upon you!"

His smile grew larger, if that was possible, as he used his hands to wave the air, 


"Imagine the Gotham City Paper's headline: 'Dr. Quinzel Cures Infamous Joker!' Imagine that, Doctor."

The anger inside me fizzled away slowly and turned to curiosity as he calmed himself down and folded his hands in his lap. He leaned forward in his chair.

"I'm not trying to be a salesman over here, Harleen. But we've had three doctors assigned to him just this month, and not one has been able to finish one session with him. I believe you have what it takes. I see a fire in you. I'm asking for you to give this a chance. You never know what could happen."

He may not be trying to be a salesman, but I like what he's selling. Dr. McSmiley was right; this was the opportunity of a lifetime. How could I pass this up? The Joker is the face of crime and evil in Gotham, and as a new psychiatrist with hardly any experience, treating him would allow me to learn things I never could explore with any normal patient. This guy was a psychotic, antisocial narcissist: he was calculating, deviant, and an anarchist. And what better way to gain confidence in the field than to dive head first into the hardest case to crack in Gotham? I took a deep breath as I gave a genuine toothy smile to my boss,

"I'm sorry, Dr. Jenson, you're right. I should've considered this before bursting in here like a madwoman. Thank you for calming my nerves."

I stood up and so did he as he walked around his desk to open the door.

"I knew you'd come around! I believe Bertha has put the files of both patients in your office, and I will be seeing you tomorrow, then, yes?"

"Yes, Doctor. Good evening."