The Pencil skimmed across the paper, creating an odd scratching sound in the luscious environment of the office.

The Psychiatrist pushed her glasses up her nose with a finger and ran a hand idly through her Nordic blonde hair as she beheld the patient in front of her. He...was difficult, he always would be. 4 different psychiatrists in less than six months. Finally, her bosses had decided to bring in the big guns, they'd brought in her to try and figure him out. Hell they even brought Crane in to do this job, and he got nowhere.

Though looking back on what happened to him now, she guessed he got nowhere with any of his patients

"Good Evening Mister-"

"J. Mister J" The patient replied with a curt lick of his lips and a saccharine wave of his hand, one she almost would have considered a shrug. "I take it you have my actual name from your little 'transcripts' there though"

"No" The Psychiatrist replied, smiling despite her nervousness and terror. She couldn't look him in the eye; it was the warpaint that put her off - like some kind of demented clown.

"You look nervous..." he said as she caught a glimpse of puppy dog eyes. Pushing her glasses up again though, the psychiatrist smiled politely "is it me?"

"No, I'm just...don't worry about it" she replied "what is you is the three bodies you killed before you came here, last night in the cell block I believe" The psychiatrist said, all business "care to tell me anything about those?"

To her surprise the prisoner just laughed; a deep, hollow sound that echoed off the walls of the office.

"Ha ehee aha aho ha hee ha" The patient said, the tongue curling around his lips again before he looked sternly at the psychiatrist, as if seriously pondering something "Look, I'm going to put it you simply...you could put me in a helicopter, take me ten thousand above sea level, show me everyone I've killed and it still wouldn't be enough. How many have I killed?"

"Twenty one" the psychiatrist replied and the makeup wearing patient looked off distantly, nodding as he got up and began to pace the room. "You still haven't answered my question though..."

"Whats your name, gorgeous?" The patient asked, eyeing the psychiatrist off spontaneously as he paced, his hands being thrown open in elaborate gestures.

"Harleen." The psychiatrist swallowed as she answered the question "Harleen Quinzel"

"Now, I'm going to presume" the patient, Mister J or whoever it was said, cocking his head to the side theatrically as he asked his questions "There's a doctor added on 

there for added pomp, Miss Quinzel?"

"Yes" Harleen swallowed

"You ever been to a physics class? I know I have..." 'J' said with a spine chilling tone in his voice "In physics class they teach you fun things like gunpowder and dynamite...and gasoline" The psychiatrist just swallowed audibly as 'J' continued "But they also teach you variables..."

"Now imagine, just for one minute, that every single human being is a variable in some big science experiment. Now you have your experimented, the schemers, they try to control the variables, if you will. Minimize their impact..."

The pencil scratched on the paper, it hid the stench of fear that Harleen felt was clinging round her like a second skin right now.

"You see variables serve their purpose. They make the experiment a little...interesting. A little...chaotic, if you will" Mr J licked his lips "and that's all I am, that's all those deaths are, are chaotic...they're there to make the experiment interesting. The deaths...the craziness...the being locked in here" J said, raising his eyes, and his hands to the roof "Its all testing the variables, and you see the funny thing is...I'm not the one counting score...I leave that to the more morbidly minded"

"You're insane" she said as she drew to eye level with him, his arms now bound by two burly guardsmen

"I tend to prefer the term ahead of the curve" He smiled, his tongue plying out again over his lips as he was escorted away "Be seeing you..."

He was a tough nut to crack...it seemed

She was tougher...