Again, I don't own anything! Just getting my sea-legs (so to speak) back for fanfiction writing. Thanks to guest user Zeny and wouldyouliketoseemymask for their kind words on the first chapter. I initally wasn't sure if it WAS gonna be a first chapter or just a standalone thing, and yet here I am. And here we go.

A knock on the door. Before Dr. Crane could reply, the door opened a crack and his secretary, Mina, poked her head in.

Crane was not particularly fond of Mina. She was a very pretty girl; blonde and bubbly. He had her pegged from day one. An attractive girl who knew she was attractive, but liked to pretend she didn't to get compliments. For someone who claimed to be so "average" and "boring", she very well knew how to get what she wanted from men. Some of the male staff would go out of their way to do favors for her, and even some of the physicians would drop by her desk from time to time to have a friendly chat. She would bat her eyelashes and flash them her most winning smile, and they were butter.

Crane knew that Mina had a thing for him. She had very actively tried to pursue him for a while after being assigned to him. Crane wasn't blind; she was a beautiful enough girl, and if he desired her, he knew he could have her at any time. But he found it was much more fun to give her the cold shoulder. Every time he made a snide comment about the way she dressed, or critiqued her handling of his schedule, she would take note, make a change and always bounce back. Her resilience was astounding to him. One day, she would make a prime test subject, he was sure.

"Dr. Crane? Your consultation appointment is here. A Mr. Arnold Wesker."

A man entering his middle ages stepped in. With a ventriloquist dummy.

Wesker was tall, but appeared to be stooped. His grey suit was dirty at the elbows, and his blue bow tie seemed to have stains. The dummy, however, was impeccably dressed. In a sharp black suit and tie, his "hair" was slicked back tight, and a cigar dangled from his mouth.

"Mr. Wesker," said Crane, standing from behind his desk, extending a hand to the man. Wesker extended the hand with the dummy on it. With only the slightest of hesitation, Crane took the dummy by its stiff, wooden hand, gave it a shake, and then sat down.

He lowered himself into his chair, scooting his chair up close to his desk, and positioned himself with pen and paper at the ready.

"My name is Dr. Jonathan Crane, and I am the head psychiatrist here at Arkham Asylum. I understand you are considering checking yourself in here for treatment?"

A voice seemed to come from the dummy. "Asylum? Youse didn't tell me we was going to any Asylum, Wesker. You tryin' to get rid of me? Eh?"

Wesker spoke quietly, with a tremor in his voice. "N-no, of course not, I have just-ju-just been feeling a bit strained lately and I w-was thinking a bit of rest and relaxation might do us both good."

"Do us goth good, eh?" said the dummy. Crane noted that the dummy – or Wesker AS the dummy – had a speech impediment, switching his 'b's with 'g's. "Well, for your sake, dat getter ge it."

"Mr. Wesker, I didn't know you would be bringing a guest. Would you mind introducing me to your friend?"

"O-o-of course. This is-"

"I'm the gig man around here. I'm Scarface, and don't you fuggedhit!"

After a very tedious 45 minute session with Wesker, Crane was left with a bad taste in his mouth and an application form on which he had written and underlined "Dissociative Identity Disorder" multiple times. He had agreed to admit Wesker into the hospital beginning the following week, where he would be staying in a "guest room" (what they formally called the higher-end cells) and receiving various stress thearapy treatments.

Crane was unsure whether or not he would eventually use Wesker as a subject for his personal experiments; quite frankly, he was unimpressed with the man's madness. He had a weak mind, clearly, and Crane was not interested in minds that could be broken as easily as this man's had been. Far better was it to take a healthy whole and divide it, and then divide it again until left in the smallest possible parts. He was far more curious about Wesker's Scarface persona, and would like to try and isolate just that personality for experiments. Then again, to test his fear toxins on a weaker mind would still provide data for him to chronicle and save, and set precedents for future scenarios. He would decide after another session with Wesker, when he could better judge how the personalities would react to such attention.

Straightening up his desk, Crane checked his watch, and then grabbed his briefcase. It was nearly time for his lunch appointment, and he hated not being on time.

Woop this one was a lot shorter, and surprise Ventriloquist, ok cool. I hope everyone reading this is enjoying it!