4th March, 1976

"I lie here in a pit of depression in a room with my last ounce of hope being taken out my room. Pictures, medals, souvenirs from our holiday to Rome, all being taken away to leave me desperate, wanting to cry. My bulb flickered, then it gave out, darkness filled the room. I hear the engine of the removal truck outside rumble, it drives off and I'm finally alone. Not that I want to be alone, but with a bunch of low paid, middle-aged removalists, no. Months had passed since the accident, I still hadn't let go, I mean, they were my inspiration, my 'someone to turn to', they were my parents. Their mansion, their money, not enough… screw this world!"

Victor

Victor placed the pen crooked next to his diary, closing the book on the last entry he would ever write. He glanced back down to the pen, cringed, and then straightened it up so it would be parallel with the diary. Victor then got up from his chair and departed from the dark room where his belongings were once kept. The stairs he proceeded down were dusty and old and the dining table he then sat down at, creaked as he leant on it. The doorbell rang and Victor looked up, he then walked slowly to the front door where his girlfriend Melissa waited.

"Vic, how's life been going for ya' lately", the woman spoke sympathetically as she waited for Victor to speak.

"This is not the time Mel…" Victor's eyes glanced down and he practically ignored her.

"Vic you can speak to…"

"THIS IS NOT THE TIME!" Victor screamed at Melissa, his eyes beaming as if staring into her soul.

"Victor, this is the last straw, don't try to contact me again you bastard!" Melissa ran off, tears streaming down her face.

"ARGH!"

Victor screamed to himself and banged his hand on the door. He ran to his bathroom and stared into his reflection, he grabbed a razor. The bulb flickered; he looked up and turned on the razor. Shaving his head he laughed manically to himself, slightly crying in his eyes.

"Ahh!" Victor screamed again and smashed his hand into the mirror; he ran into his closet, grabbed a cheap suit and then his car keys. Getting into his car, Victor shoved his keys into the holes, pressed onto the gas pedal and sped off onto his driveway, then entering onto the road. He continued to laugh and cry as he drove along the road to a nearby casino, his hands shaking as he handled the wheel speeding down the highway. He screeched to a stop by a newly opened casino run by the billionaire Oswald Copperpot; he parked his strangely shiny sedan near the midst of a red carpet and stepped out in front of the casino. It was lined with lights and bright neon signs, black tinted windows throughout the enormous building. As Victor walked into the casino he was greeted by Oswald himself.

"You must be Mr Zsasz, welcome to my casino!" Oswald's short stature and dark purple suit was over towered by Victor's tall physique.

"So where can I get my chips?" Victor seemed in a rush and was eager to get gambling.

"Right this way, Mr Zsasz…" Oswald led Victor to a small counter nearby and was surprised to see that Victor gave it all he had, his entire fortune in fact. "Oh, well, um, are you sure Mr Zsasz?" Oswald looked both worried but rather excited at the amount of money Victor was about to deposit.

"None of it matters, life is meaningless Mr Copplepot, now lead me to the poker table."

Oswald led Victor to the poker tables and sat him down among other rich socialites. Time passed, so did Victor's money. Continually throwing away his money, Victor became anxious as did the people perched around him. Eventually Victor was left with nothing, he was devastated. His eyes grew wide, his lips scrunched up and he let out a cry of anguish. He pushed the table away and scattered the cards all over the green, felt table. He couldn't get out of that place sooner, running down the hall past the slots he reached his car and once again sped off into the now darkened streets.

PRESENT TIME- Arkham Asylum

"Taped patient evaluation 6, patient's name is Victor Zsasz. So far Victor is not responding well to treatment." Dr Sarah Cassidy was one of the doctors in car of Victor Zsasz at Arkham Asylum; her face was young and kind but looked tired and ravaged because of the working conditions she was in. "Victor, let's talk about your tally marks, why did you start carving tally marks into your skin?"

"Sarah, we've talked about this, my marks are art and they are necessary to keep track of the people I have helped." Victor had aged terribly, his skin crawling with the tally marks from his victims, his head shaven and bloody and his eyes as shiny as ever.

"Helped?" Dr Cassidy let out a cruel laugh. "You killed all those people, why Victor?"

"Well doctor, it all started after a night out on the town oh it was wonderful, the sky was black the streets smelt like crap and I decided that my life was no longer worthy of living. There was nothing at all at the centre of me - no reason for being, no motivation, no purpose. I was just a robot, sleepwalking from one distraction to another, hiding from the truth. So I drove off to the bridge and stood on the edge about to jump until some stupid hobo pulled out a knife wanting to stab me. The knife, it looked so sharp, so ready… it wanted me. I snatched it off him and then stabbed him, it was invigorating! He was lucky to receive my gift, he no longer needed to live, he was simply a zombie. "

"He was not a zombie Victor, he's a person!"

"Ah no Doctor, it was liberating, it was then when I carved the first tally mark into me, that was it…"

"You don't exhibit the usual signs of mental illness. No voices, no hallucinations, no dementia. Why," she asked him. "Do you kill?"

"I have no dysfunctional family background. I suffered neither childhood abuse nor trauma. I kill for ONE reason only, doctor - because I CHOOSE to."

Victor held a knife hidden in his hand, slowly bringing it up from the table he reached out and grabbed Dr Cassidy, slitting her throat.