"This 'patient' was the victim of a rather nasty robbery. The subject was of Indian descent, he was fifty years of age and he was a corner shop owner; which is where the crime happened. As you can see, after looking closely at the state of the body, there is an indication that our dead friend put up quite the struggle. Looking at the hands, you can find traces of evidence that he fired a gun before he croaked, which can be deduced by the marking and bruising from the slight kick back."

Glancing up at the University students, I looked them over individually as they all took in the cadaver in their own special ways. Some looked slightly sick to their stomach, and others could only stare in awe. From what I deduced after observing this class once every week, only two or three students present had the stomach to deal with the land of the dead. The rest of the class would either go into the medical field to become the usual doctors and nurses, while the remaining would attempt to work in morgues, only to figure out they could not stomach the job.

I allowed the students about 10 minutes to take notes and study the cadaver. Pushing the body drawer closed I continued to walk forward, my back to the students. Today was one of those winged class sessions. I had no idea where I was going with the lesson today "Are we going to the look at any of the Rogues' victims!"

The voice jumped out of the horde of students, as bold as you please. You always had that one student, that one person who was looking for a challenge. Turning on my heel, my eyes searched the group of learners. They darted around from behind my glasses, jumping from face to face. The silence lay thick in the room, so much so that my old college professor shifted uncomfortably in the back of the group. Finally the culprit of the question stepped forward. "So are we?"

The student was possibly in his early 20's maybe younger. His hair was bleached blonde and stylishly unkempt. The clothes he wore consisted of a pair of clean cut jeans, and a black t-shirt with the classic Misfits Crimson Ghost, however there was something off. The ghost had been semi vandalized; its mouth was adorned with a crimson clown smile and at the lower hem of the shirt it read. 'Why so serious.'

So, I had a Joker fan in my midst. This punk ass must have a death wish or something. He was either going to be murdered by Joker or pissed of Misfits fans. Neither of which would be pleasant death. The boy began to weaken under my steady gaze. "You will not be looking at those until the end of the year."

This angered him, causing him to gain his balls back. "Why can't we see them now? We can handle it!" At this he gestured toward his fellow classmates, some nodded while other remained rooted to the spot, not wanting to be part of the confrontation. Looking back at me he smiled smugly, taking my lack of a response as a sign of victory.

Smirking, I shook my head, and removed my glasses. I found that taking the barrier of glass from my eyes made a better impression; it was a good scare tactic. Unlike Crane's ice blue eyes. Mine were dark brown, so dark that at times people couldn't spot the pupils in the midst of the irises. Raising an eyebrow I asked calmly. "What's your name kid?" He didn't expect such a common question. "Huh?"

Rolling my eyes I barked. "Your name, what's your name?" Nodding he replied. "Seth Rivers"

Nodding, I twirled my glasses between my fingers. "What makes you think that you could stomach the work of the Rogue's Gallery?"

He could see that I was challenging him. Seth wouldn't take it in front of his peers. "I watch the news and I've seen pictures of many of the victims."

Pursing my lips, I sighed gesturing to Seth's t-shirt, "I see you are a fan of the Joker' work."

Looking down at his shirt, Seth flushed slightly. It was as if no one had ever asked him why he had such a foolish shirt in the first place. Joker did not like his fans, to worship that clown like a drooling fan girl was like signing your own death warrant. Seeing that Seth wasn't going to say anything I continued. "People like you do not belong in the world of forensic pathology; do you want to know why?"

Again he said nothing, but I noticed his peers were listening intently. Taking their eagerness as a cue, I went on. "Because, a pathologist should not idolize the killers who send them corpses, especially when those crazy fucks are deemed mentally unfit, and gallivant across the city in costume like its fucking Halloween or something. You can't fawn over the Rogues because they like to kill; they like to listen to their victims scream. When you start to examine bodies, you do it with the intent to gain evidence and knowledge of how to put the ones responsible behind bars. And if the crime is disgusting and severe enough, under the needle."

The class was silent and solemn, but Seth was still intent to challenge my ruling. "That doesn't mean we can't handle seeing the Rogues' victims!"

Narrowing my eyes, I looked at the Professor Ackerman. Making a decision, I looked at the class at large. Putting my glasses back on, I stuffed my hands into the deep recesses of my lab coat. Raising my voice I called. "Anyone who thinks they have the stomach to look at a Rogue victim please step forward, and join Mr. Rivers at the front."

At my request, three other students came forward. Two were masculine boys, and the other was a frail girl. To anyone she looked like she was the type pass out at the merest trace of blood. But I saw something promising in her. Nodding, I glanced at the Professor, calling over the students' heads. "Professor Ackerman, would you please hold down the fort while I take these four to the other room!"

Not awaiting a reply, I turned and walked toward a separate part of the morgue. Opening the door, I shepherded the students inside. Closing it, I walked toward the cadaver cabinet against the left wall. Going to one drawer in particular I waited for the four brave (or rather foolish) students to stand on the opposite side. Truth be told, the body was not as sickening as it had been when it came in a couple days ago. After performing the autopsy I did some un-required work, and cleaned it up. Looking from face to face, I took the handle of the drawer and pulled, bringing out the sheet covered body. With careful hands I pulled the sheet away from the cadaver.

Almost instantly, Seth's eyes widened, his cheeks flushed to a shade of green. Then he turned away and promptly vomited on the floor. He had not expected such atrocity and evil. The cadaver was now cold and bloodless, but the cuts on the body were still terrible. The victim's name had been Rebecca Faust; a 25 year old woman, with beautiful blue eyes and naturally blonde hair. Both of those features were retained, even in death. But her once olive colored skin was marred with chop shop butchery. Every inch of her body was adorned with Joker's classic HA's. Not even her vaginal area was left clean. Rebecca's once beautiful face was dismantled by a Glasgow smile. The horrifying carvings would never heal over, the best I could do was stitch it up as carefully as possible.

I stood in silence, letting the students take in the horror of Joker's work. The two remaining men were clutching each other for support. Within in a second, one of them had passed out on the floor. The only girl in the group remained impassive, though her cheeks were tinted with a light shade of sickening green.

Nodding with simple satisfaction at putting Mr. Rivers in his place, I covered Rebecca up and returned her to the peaceful solitude of the cadaver drawer. Going to the fainted boy, I managed to wake him. Helping him up, I nodded toward his buddy. "Would you mind?"

Seeing what I meant, I was relieved of what felt like 200 pounds of almost dead weight. The two boys left the room, white as ghosts. Looking over at Seth, who was kneeling on the ground before the pool of his own sick, I went over to him. Going down to his level, I put my hand on his shoulder. You couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor boy. Looking at me, he seemed like a lost child. Rubbing his back like a mother would, I stated. "You can't idolize something that would hurt a person like that. Do you understand?"

Slowly he nodded, he was still shaking, both weak and terrified. Nodding I patted his back. "Good, now go clean yourself up, and when you get home tonight, trash the shirt."

With my help, Seth managed to get back on his feet. After I told him where the bathroom was, he went on his way. Shaking my head, I looked at the remaining student. "What's your name?"

She seemed slightly terrified. Realizing why, I chuckled. "Don't worry; I'm not going to show you another Rogue cadaver today." Nodding, she replied "Lydia Burg."

Smiling, I steered her out of the room, and back to her peers. "Well Lydia, kudos to you for not getting sick or passing out."

Returning to the med. students with Lydia in tow, I was instantly confronted by Ackerman. Grabbing my arm, he led me to a more secluded area. Turning on me, he hissed "Why would you do that to my students?"

Fixing him with a glare I replied "Because that Rivers needed a cold splash of reality. Do you have any idea how many idiots come in here because they hero worshiped the Rogues?"

Ackerman fell silent. Crossing my arms over my chest I went on. "These kids need to learn that this job is not a walk in the park. It requires a cast iron stomach and the ability to discern between right and wrong. Working in a city like this makes the requirements even more vital, tenfold!"

The Professor nodded. "Still, you could have shown them a picture or something."

Rolling my eyes I countered. "Pictures don't always illustrate the full impact of the suffering these people went through. These kids are going to see the inner workings of hell when they leave college. They might as well get a look at it now."