please review!
My labored breathing is slowly becoming more tolerable as I slumped heavily in an alley way behind what I can assume is some sort of night club. "Psychologists are meant for mental stimulus, not physical exercise." I shake my head and rest it against the cool brick wall behind me. The last experiment proved to be a waste of time. The subject quickly passed out after the first dose, not to mention that the damned little bubble headed blonde intern almost walked in, ruining my session and my controlled variable of maintaining a healthy, stable environment to test in. But I do have to give her credit; the girl isn't as idiotic as I originally perceived. I pinched the bridge of my nose; this last call was too close for comfort. She was becoming too distracting for my own good. Things like that get you caught.
"Now Mr…Rhodes is it? How does it feel to be the weak one for a change? Who would have guessed that a man of your size would be frightened by something as infantile as bees" I glowered down at the massive heap of a man, the sweat forming at his hairline as he tried to dodge the imaginary bees that were delving into his psychosis was entertaining, but there has to be something deeper here... something I just haven't figured out yet. I leaned forward and pressed my fingers into his neck, his pulse was going haywire, but nothing that would harm him too much in the long run. Glancing into his eyes, I could see the fear triple as he caught sight of my mask. Tears leaked out of his bloodshot eyes and down his face as he began hyperventilating. This was it! The moment where he realizes that I am the God of this universe.
"Professor Crane?" a small voice interrupts my moment of ecstasy.
I quickly pull off my mask and shove it into the small briefcase that is lying at my feet and slam my long hand over the mouth of my squirming victim "What is it Harleen?" I all but bellow through the door.
"I was wondering if you had a moment to discuss something rather important."
I silently groaned and removed my hand from the now incapacitated test subject. This is getting ridiculous. I never have a moment of peace! I straighten my hair and move over to the door, opening it just enough that she is satisfied with seeing me, but not enough so that she can look at the scene that was just unfolding in the room behind me. I glare down at her, my lanky build towering over her. "What could I be of assistance of Harleen that your PH.D in psychiatry couldn't figure out?" I sneered at her. It was common knowledge that Harleen had obviously not achieved her grades by studying alone. Her pretty, childlike face and innocent blue eyes were a sharp contrast to the wicked curves and seductive air that lie beneath every boring pencil skirt that she wore.
Now, looking into those blue orbs I could see the anger and suspicion growing. If there was one thing I knew about my annoying little intern, it was that she hated to be talked down to. She straightened her back and glared back into my own icy stare. He jaw clenched tight " I thought you might be interested to know that Patient number 34568 is completely catatonic, uttering only the word 'Scarecrow' over and over again. Do you have any input Professor? I mean, you were the last one to speak with him before this." her blue orbs searched my own accusingly.
"Why don't you actually use that mass in your head for more that pop trivia Harleen and YOU tell ME." I glared at her, daring her to say anything more
A small smirk appeared on her ruby lips and she gave an infuriating shrug. "No problem professor, I'll make sure that you're the first to know what I find out." And with that she turned on her heal and sauntered through the long stretching hallways of Arkham Asylum, leaving me to second guess myself to the point of having to release my frustration through some sort of physical exercise. This girl is going to drive me crazy.
I reached up and ran a hand through my sweat drenched locks and laughed, even physical exercise couldn't erase her from my mind. Who was this girl to occupy my thoughts? There was nothing particularly outstanding about her. Hell, I didn't even give her a second thought after meeting her, but over time I couldn't help but feel some sort of magnetism toward the little twit, and sometimes I couldn't help but notice the little things about her. The way her bottle blonde hair would catch the sunlight coming in through the window, the way she would bite the end of her pen when she was focusing intently on something or someone, or the annoying tightening in my chest whenever I would catch one of the orderlies eyes permanently attracted to her rear in the hallways was especially annoying.
The blaring music and bright lights brought me back to reality. I glanced over at the long line forming down the road, attracting all sorts of sex crazed Neanderthals and the ever so innocent succubi that congregate together in a futile attempt to rid themselves of this horrific nightmare that is life. I grimace; I was never one for night clubs. Even in my college days I couldn't be more content to sit in my dorm and read, or study. The mere thought of being in a crowd of gyrating coed's is enough to make even the master of fear shudder.
"Professor Crane, is that you?" a familiar, small voice echoed through the dank alley way. I glanced over to see the annoyingly confusing blonde intern of mine dressed in a tight fitting mini dress that hugged her curves in a way that would make any man fall on his knees, her blue eyes squinting in the darkness, trying to make out the rest of my features while using her hand against the cool brick to guide her down the alley.
"Yes child, its me." I answered with a huff. Of course it would be my luck that the one person who is torturing my thoughts day and night would show up in front of me the moment I try to run from her.
She stumbled blindly through the alley, her fingertips met the hem of my sleeve on my t-shirt, stopping herself before getting any closer. She cocked her head to the side and I could see a small smile play on her lips "I didn't know you like to go clubbing, I would have invited you to come along."
I rolled my eyes and shook my head, annoyed. "Don't be ridiculous Harleen; do I look like the clubbing type?"
She smiled "you've got a point professor, you don't really seem like the clubbing type, but I'd bet you have some wild dance moves." She mused while squinting up at me, her breath lightly tinged with alcohol.
"Harleen, why are you out here and not inside bumping and grinding like all of the others?" I huffed, more than slightly annoyed. I went on a jog to get her off my mind, but now I'm slowly starting to realize that it's going to be damn near impossible, especially with the dress she's wearing right now. I couldn't help but realize that red suited her.
She giggled "I needed to get out of there, I can only take so much before I need a break." She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, her long blonde locks cascading down her back like a waterfall of silk. "besides I like the present company" she smirked up at me, a playful gleam in her eye and let her fingers find their way to my chest.
"You're drunk Harleen." I breathed.
She turned toward me and gave me a mischievous little smile and leaned in closer to me, pushing herself against my chest. "ya know, I've been thinking about that patient from earlier. He seemed a little freaked after you sent him back to his cell…wonder why." Her fingers found their way to the back of my hair, messing with the hairs at the nape of my neck.
I gulped. I tried to think clearly, trying to ignore the sensations of her fingers in my hair and focus on getting out of there before she asked too many questions. But the lump in my throat prevented me from talking, and the lump in my pants prevented me from leaving. "Harleen…" I warned "stop this right now… you're going to do, or say, something you regret." I gave her a stern look and grabbed her wrist from behind my neck and pushed her up against the brick wall behind her. She was getting too close to figuring out just what happened behind my office door.
"Aww…what's the matter professor? Does this…" she snaked her free hand down to the fly of my pants "frighten you?"
Our eyes met and that's when I realized two things. One, Harleen Quinzel was a fantastic actress. She wasn't drunk; she knew exactly what she was doing and exactly what she was saying. She knew exactly who I was and what I did to people. Two, she loved it. And for a moment, everything stood still, it was as if time itself had stopped moving, only to start again when the ghost of the word 'Scarecrow' drifted off her lips while her dainty fingers slid down the front of my pants.