Hey guys just a random little one-shot for you guys, really different from anything i've ever written... hope you enjoyyy and please review

I didn't want to write this story in the first place, she told herself, fumbling through her purse for a pen.

"You're the most disorganized one yet."

Barbie jumped, her eyes locking onto his, the appropriately named "Blue-eyed killer". She had somehow forgotten that he was going to be there, even if she had come there with the sole purpose of talking with him. "Excuse me?"

He smiled, his ankle shackles rattling as he sat down in his chair and leaned forward towards the glass between them, "I said you're the most disorganized reporter I've seen so far, although I must say you are by far the prettiest.."

She tried not to blush, but his smooth voice and boyish good looks made it very difficult. Snap out of it Babs, he's a serial killer for Christ's sake. The blonde woman smiled back at him politely, "You spend your day surrounded by nothing but men, I'm not sure I should be flattered."

A smirk washed over his face, "And she's witty too."

Once again Barbie had to remind herself that he had brutally murdered five people, and that he probably wouldn't have stopped there, but that didn't make him any less charming. She decided that it was better just to ignore his advances, "Let's get to it shall we?"

Folding his hands behind his head Randy leaned back on his chair, "Ask away..."

She nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and let out a breath that she didn't realize she had been holding in, "Well I guess the obvious question is why did you kill all those women..."

Randy shrugged, "I don't know, why do people do anything?"

Closing her notebook she stood up, "I tried, I guess I'll just go tell my boss that you wouldn't talk to me just like all the others."

He licked his lips as his eyes fixated on her round backside, perfectly accentuated by her tight pencil skirt, the slit just high enough that his imagination was running wild with thoughts of what was beneath the black fabric, "I'll talk."

Barbie slowly turned back around, "No bullshit?"

Another smirk... "No bullshit."

Sitting back down she crossed her legs, and pulled her pen out from where she had wedged it into her bun moments earlier, "The papers say you strangled them all...then opened them up autopsy style."

He nodded, "That is what they say..."

An eyebrow rose, "So are you saying you didn't?"

"I'm saying I don't remember," Randy shot back, "I'd black out and wake up covered in blood, my apartment a mess and a dead girl in my bathtub."

The room suddenly felt colder and a shiver ran up her spin, "The reports also say that you've had anger issues your whole life, that you strangled neighbours cats as a child, and other sadistic behaviour."

Randy nodded again, "I never had a father growing up."

"Neither did I, you don't see me running around killing people..." She barked, finding herself angered that he would use the tired old story of an absent father.

Once again he smiled, "You're feisty.. I like that."

"Mr. Orton can we please get on with the interview?"

A wink was sent in her direction, "I'd rather get on you." He whispered, his mouth millimetres away from the holes in the window.

She ignored him, looking away and pulling at the collar of her white blouse. When she turned back around he was smirking again, "Am I making you uncomfortable miss... I'm sorry I didn't catch you're name..."

"Miss Blank."

"Miss Blank," He repeated.

Barbie couldn't control her thoughts, somehow the idea of it all seemed strangely erotic. And as Randy pressed his hand to the glass she couldn't help but imagine it running down her stomach, her own hands gripping at his strong broad shoulders.

She felt sick thinking about a cold blooded killer like that, and tried her best to shake it all off and continue... "I don't believe that you don't remember."

"Why's that?"

Smiling she turned a page in her notebook, ferociously scribbling in it, "Because you have psychotic tendency's Mr. Orton, The police say you showed no emotion when they showed you the photos of your butchered victims."

Another shrug, "I blame it on the desensitization of the public in general."

"I can see that I'm getting no where, lets try moving on." She told him, her voice full of frustration, "Why did you pick the women you did? Reports say none of them had anything in common, they ranged in age from 17-34, some had light hair, some dark.. most were Caucasian but one was Latina breaking that pattern. So how did you pick them?"

He laid his head on his hands, resting on his elbows, "Simple, they all picked me. Every damn one of them blatantly threw themselves at me."

"Which leads me to my next question.. Did you have sex with all the victims?"

Randy's lips drew up in a grin, "Hot torrid sex with every last one of um."

"Shelly Cole was only seventeen years old..."

He looked at her with no expression and no sign of remorse as he spoke, "Innocence is fleeting, she was far from a little girl."

Barbie could tell by the way he kept his sentences short that he was closing himself off from her, she had to hurry on with her questions before he gave up answering completely, "I see... well my notes also tell me that you worked security in a morgue, so you had opportunity to see the Y-shaped autopsy style incision that you used on your victims."

"Sure, but I could have easily seen it on C.S.I."

Aggravated with him she fired back again, "But you're an avid hunter correct? That would make you more comfortable around blood, and with cutting flesh."

"You've got it all figured out don't you.."

A self satisfied smile emerged on her face, "Everything but why you didn't plead insanity.. it's obvious that you're a seriously disturbed individual."

"Well there's something I'd like to know Miss Blank.."

The blonde uncrossed and recrossed her legs, his eyes followed, hoping for a little peak. "Which is?"

"What your insides look like."