The Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane is home to those whom have suffered mentally, and in some cases even led physical suffering. It houses the ones that the jails in the city of Gotham cannot handle. Rough waves splashed up against the island that the great cold-looking building sat upon. The big building never looked completely empty. There was always a light on in some room, a scream emitting from elsewhere in the distance. You'd think it was haunted if it weren't known as the asylum.
A young woman with blonde hair opens the door to a dark office, lit by only a desk lamp.
"Dr. Crane," she called out.
"Yes?" he looked up from his files quickly, his glasses glinting for a second from the low light.
"I'll be canceling your appointment with... our little wise guy, our joker, she looked down and smirked, "I'll be taking over him," she said a bit too sternly, leaning heavily on one foot.
"Alright," he looked back down at his papers. When he senses that she didn't leave, he looked up to see her nervously chewing her lip, hesitant to close the door, "That'll be all Dr. Quinzel."
She snapped out of her strange reverie, nodded once and left the room closing the door.
He leaned forward once again and looked over some more papers, rubbing his temples, too wired to call it a day and go home. He glanced at the clock. 9:41 PM. He still has time.
"What patient shall I test?" he thought to himself, as he looked over a couple of files. Adjusting his glasses, he read, "Lynn Schwartz; age 37; severe case of catatonic schizophrenia... Lynn wouldn't be any fun to play with at the beginning. She could sit still for hours. Thomason Hindal; age 19; dissociative identity disorder. No, no. He would just be a nuisance. I'm not in the mood to hear his rants about who is coming after me."
A few more files here and there caught his interest and he laid them to the side, until he realized he had already went through most of them, down in his lab. He angrily tapped his knuckle on the desk. Weren't there any FUN crazies to play with nowadays? What happened to all the good ones for his experiments? It was hard trying to find one that fit to both of his wants. He rifled through about 4 more until one file caught his eye.
"Hmm," he sighed, eyeing the blank stare of the young woman in the picture, "Elizabeth Krueger. Age 23. Suffers from antisocial personality disorder, paranoid schizophrenia, bi-polar personality disorder, and has a long history of having a mental attachment with sharp objects... belonemaniac? Huh. She is notorious for breaking out of the asylum... Wow. She has the works. She seems interesting enough," he gently rubbed his thumb over her picture.
"She'll do."