Monster

Evil Rising

"Patient interview number one, now in session." I began the record a couple minutes early so that I wouldn't forget. It was my first "official" day on the job, where I'd be interviewing my first patient. Before it started, Dr. Crane entered the room.
"Dr. Quinzel, we'll be bringing him in shortly. I just wanted to let you know they found this man at around three in the morning. Strange thing is, we can't find anything on his true identity. He has all this-war paint made to look like a clown face on. He also has these weird, raggedy clown-like clothes. We believe he went on a mass murder rampage, killing well over thirty people in various ways...I'm not sure what all this means. I felt you needed to know since we couldn't get all the notes in all his file. Here you go." Dr. Crane placed this man's file before me on the metal table, and in entered the odd man in a straight jacket. He was wheeled in on a stretcher-like device, only it was upright. He certainly was terrifying. It almost looked like there was a Chelsea grin carved on one side of his face, but not the other. (Paint?) Covered his entire face with most white, red with the smile, and some blue around the eyes, and green as the eyebrows. It was clear I wouldn't be able to determine his identity...even his hair was this dreadful dark green. Something told me this was permanent, otherwise Arkham officials would have cleaned it off.
"Hello, I'm Dr. Harleen Francis Quinzel. I'll be your psychiatrist for the time being, how would you like to spend your remaining hour?" His head tilted, and almost greenish blue eyes looked into mine, his grin revealing each and every yellow tooth in his mouth. Snickering, he nodded and turned towards me.
"Harleen...do your friends call you Harley Quinn?" His voice echoed in the room, it was distinct and certainly something I'd remember after this session.
"I don't have many friends...Joker." I read 'Joker' out of the top of the paper in his file.
"You've got one now, doll. So...by any chance am I your first?" First what? How'd he know?
"I shall take that as a yes. You know, they always say your first is quite an experience. I'll try to make this memorable for you." I could feel myself blushing at the lewd joke, and changed the subject.
"Maybe it would be better if I guided this conversation. Do you know why you're here?"
"Darling, my specialty isn't denial. Yes. I made quite the scene, didn't I? Yes, Gotham has me to thank." I gulped, and tried to press more information.
"Denial isn't your specialty? Then what is?"
"Murder." He stated, in a more serious tone. There was a sense of familiarity I could hear in his tone, but I couldn't pinpoint where I've known it from. He sounded so strange, dark, yet cheerful. His voice...well, was certainly clown like.
"Was last night the first time you've ever committed a crime? I've heard so, if that's the case it doesn't seem so that you're an expert entirely. Especially since you've wound up here, in Arkham."
"Don't go nosing around in what you don't understand. You don't become an expert without learning the craft."
"And would you consider murder to be your craft?"
"That, among other things. I'll keep that to myself for now."
"Okay. Well, I've introduced myself and you have not. Your name is?" He laughed maniacally for several seconds before giving me that evil smile.
"It's Joker, The Joker. What else?"
"Your real name."
"Even if I could remember I wouldn't tell you. Why don't you tell me about yourself, huh?"
"This session is for you, Joker."
"Do you really think you're in charge?" I looked down, my hands shaking. This man scared me, shook me to the bones. And he saw my weakness. I tried to conceal it, but he could tell. He read me like any typical novel. I gulped, he continued. "I'm not here for your entertainment, and I'm not a monster. I'm just a guy who killed a lot of people!" He began laughing crazily again, and nearly aggressively. This lasted a bit longer, around twenty seconds. Yes, I timed. "I don't claim to have a plan. I don't claim to know what I'm doing. I doing claim to pretend I'm something that I'm not. I'm just not okay upstairs...as you can see." He nodded, relaxing back into the stretcher.
"Would you kill again?"
"Yes, I will."