Don't ask me why I took up this job, don't even start, ok! It's the absolute worst job any moron can have in Gotham city… And for some reason I just happened to be very good at diagnosing death … Ha, that's hilarious! Diagnosing death, it sounds like I'm talking about a curable disease.

I've lived in Gotham for most of my life. My hometown is Narrows; I was given an education in the worst possible place, a school only known as Gotham High, and my description of it being the worst possible place is hardly an exaggeration. That school had random locker checks once a week. Students had to pass through a metal detector just to get on campus. Half the population already had ties to the underbelly of Gotham. As I said before, a nasty place to receive an education.

After high school, I went right to college. And that was where I excelled. I aimed to work my ass off in college for four years, focusing on human biology. My mother was a nurse, and ever since I was child I idolized her. She always wanted to be a doctor. And that had been my goal, so I got to work, intent on getting into the highest rated medical school in the nation.

But, living in the Narrows was difficult. Paying for college was complicated; my mother was laid off a year into my education. So I started to look for jobs, so as to pay the quickly rising expenses. After leaving my human anatomy class, I stopped at the college billboard. Posters and notifications for jobs littered the thing.

Nothing seemed interesting, until my eyes fell on an advertisement pinned just at the edge of the board. Curious, I picked it up and scanned in carefully. In fancy lettering it read

Fascinated in human anatomy? Are you the kind of person people come to in a time of great need? Do you set your own emotions aside to help others? Well, than this job is perfect for you.

Interested?

Call this number:

588-343-0839

Ask for Undertaker Rollick

It had been such a strange advertisement for an assistant. I suppose that is why I called Jamie Rollick and told him I was interested is being his apprentice. The fact that I got the job wasn't surprising; no one else had called about the position. Even after I explained that I was taking this job to pay the bills. Rollick didn't care, he was old, and he needed someone to take over his business. There were many Undertakers in Gotham, and Rollick was the best in the business, and he'd be dammed before he lost his title.

So through most of college, I worked as Rollick's apprentice. I'm not kidding about the title of my job; I was literally referred to as a Mortician's Apprentice. There should seriously be a book or movie about that; it would make a good horror film or something.

Anyway, so I managed to pay for all my schooling. Rollick was a good man, and he paid me more than was required of him. He knew my dreams. At times I think he secretly hoped that I would give of my pursuits of becoming Dr. Bianca Faun. But my mind was set, until something came up, which changed my whole career path.

It was on a gloomy autumn day when the body came in. Rollick was told that the woman committed suicide, so said the rope bruises on her neck. But I wasn't convinced, I don't recall why, but something just didn't feel right. I became obsessed with the woman's past. Nothing about her said 'suicide.' She grew up wealthy, was married with 2 beautiful kids. She had a history of bi-polar; the cops claimed she went off her medication.

So, the night before we prepared the body for burial, I did a very quick exam. I ended up finding traces of her medication. This convinced me something was terribly wrong, I began to look at the rope markings on her neck. Finding something off, I had seen suicide cases, and they all were very similar.

The bruises on her neck were not the usual V shaped black and blues I was accustom to seeing in a suicide. They were slightly V shaped, but still it was off. They also seemed very dark. Finally, I figured it was time to call the police.

A month later, a pathologist at Gotham PD confirmed my suspicions. About a week after the diagnosis, a suspect was found (a corrupt cop), and was later convicted. My detective work made the news, but that only lasted in the public for a couple days. By the end of the week it was nothing worth mentioning to the community.

However, it attracted the attention of my professor at medical school. He called me into his office, and inquired as to whether I was curious about the idea of becoming a forensic pathologist. And that was the beginning of my career. I went into medical school with the intent to become a normal Doctor, and I graduated, only to spend 2 year in a pathology fellowship. I also took several internships with the local Coroner

After a little more than 15 years of schooling, I graduated, and almost immediately received a job with Gotham PD. All in all, it sounds like one hell of a perfect life. Oh, it all went swimmingly until I took the job and examined my first Gotham Rouge victim. Let me tell you, I had never thrown up during an autopsy that is until I had a look at Joker's latest piece of 'art.'

I puked twice, trust me, you would too after seeing the shit Joker does with his playthings. He's one fucked up pretzel. That was the day I regretted throwing away 15 years of my life to play doctor to the dead. I'm in my early 30's and I've done almost nothing but diagnose the rising death toll in our fair Gotham, all in all it's rather depressing. I'm just grateful that I managed to graduate high school a year early.

I've also managed to gain a few enemies. In the years that I've worked, I've managed to piss off some very powerful criminals. Now any idiot in my position knew the risks of taking a job like this. It's actually in the job description that you will possibly make some enemies. For example, rich father is found dead by the pool, his children are convinced that it's the blonde 20 year old bimbo girl friend that did it, turns out dear old Dad committed suicide. In the end you have a bunch of very angry family members who are seriously considering suing your ass. It can get pretty nasty sometimes.

Going back to the issue of the head criminals in Gotham, well that's pretty self explanatory. They can't afford more homicide charges on their long, long, long list of crimes. Despite the fact that they have really good lawyers to keep themselves out of jail, it annoys them that I continuously drag their asses into court when I come up with enough evidence to charge them.

All in all I really fucking hate my life, and I wish I had stayed the course to become a quote on quote 'normal' doctor. So here I am, Bianca Faun, 34 years old and an underpaid Coroner; whom the Rogues refer to as 'Ms. Undertaker.' And I' am a friend to those passed on.