Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews guys! You know how happy it makes me! Here's the next chapter. I know it's taken me a while, but I'm trying to be a good little author and update all of the stories that I'm working on. I appreciate you bearing with me. Well, enough of my blathering…on with the story!

Chapter Eleven: Crane

Jonathan stood in the center of his office, his eyes focused on the enormous crack that zigzagged through the screen of the expensive monitor on his wall. He rolled the heavy gold paperweight back and forth between both hands as he paced three steps in each direction. The gears in his mind clicked and turned as he tried to work the details; everything from where the trespasser stood in the office to what angle the paperweight had slammed into the screen. He stopped walking and leaned against the front of his desk, bracing himself on his hip. He adjusted his glasses and squinted at the screen, demanding silently that it reveal its secrets to him.

He leaned away from the desk and walked over to the monitor, tossing the paperweight up and down in one hand. With his free hand, he ran the tips of his fingers over the center of the crack. The bottom portion of the chink had sunken in further than the top, telling him that it had been struck from a low angle. He breathed in deeply through his nostrils and took a backwards step, seeing things clearly. He examined the paperweight, rubbing the pad of his thumb over its smooth surface. He licked his lips and returned the object to its proper place on his compulsively organized desk.

The question in his head was no longer who, but why. Why had this well mannered, seemingly passive man come into his office in the first place? What was it about seeing himself with Heather that had sent this man into such an uncontrolled fit of rage that he had felt the need to destroy? He wondered it Stanly knew himself. That was the only person it could have been. Short, frumpy, round little Dr. Mildred.

Jonathan smiled to himself. Amazing. The mind was an incredible force. Mildred had come into the office and been angered enough to hurl a solid metal object at his boss's expensive equipment. Odds were, he hadn't even realized what he had done until it had already happened. The thought that this man's mind had completely taken over his body was too beautiful for words! Jonathan felt it when his mouth twisted into a familiar shark's grin. He knew who had intruded into his office. Now, what was he going to do about it?

An idea came to him all of the sudden, wriggling around in his head like a worm. His shark smile widened. It would be his ultimate test study. A strong, healthy, intelligent mind to poke at and toy with; how far could he bend it before it broke? In a way, it would be his finest hour…until tomorrow when he moved on to the next subject.

With the thoughts of his oncoming experiment twisting through his brain, Jonathan rolled his shoulders back, clasped his hands behind him, and left the office. He walked in long confident strides, he walked quickly, he walked like a man with a purpose.

When he entered the lab that was located ever so conveniently in the basement of Arkham, Dr. Mildred was standing over a test tube, filled with bubbling bluish liquid. He looked more like a caricature, stooped over the desk, gazing through heavy protective lab goggles at the fizzling concoction brewing over the Bunsen burner. A quick scan of the premises let Jonathan know that they were in fact alone in the lab. Good. There would be no interruptions.

Jonathan cleared his throat, drawing his assistant's attention. Mildred glanced over at him, the tips of his bushy eyebrows just barely visibly over the top of the goggles. "Stanly, may I have a word?" Jonathan asked.

Mildred straightened, nodded, and peeled the goggles off of his round little head. A dark red indentation ran over his cheeks and forehead, leaving the impression of the mask still on his face. He toddled over to Jonathan, picking a clipboard up off the desk and scribbling some notes on it as he did so.

"Yes, Dr. Crane?" he said without looking away from his notes.

"Why, Stanly, did you enter my office while I wasn't present?"

Mildred looked up at that. "I didn't." he responded, his beady eyes widening at the accusation.

"Stanly, you are not a foolish man. Please do not treat meas though I am."

"Dr. Crane, I never went into your office."

"Well, I happen to know you did." Jonathan sneered, his tone smug, lips curling over teeth in a snarl. "And you busted a rather expensive piece of surveillance equipment."

"I did no such thing." He was becoming agitated.

"Stop insulting my intelligence."

"Doctor…"

Jonathan cut him off. "I know that you went into my office and that you saw me with Heather."

Mildred's mouth snapped closed, his spine straightened and his chin jutted upward. His face flushed and the tips of his ear turned bright red, almost glowing. He slapped the clipboard back down on the desk. Inside, Jonathan was dancing. Mildred's anger rose with just the mere mention of Heather's name. How many buttons would it take to send him over the edge once again?

Mildred tugged a worn out handkerchief from his lab coat pocket and wiped his sweaty forehead. "Please," his words spewed from his mouth vehemence and a deep undertone of loathing, "Yes, I know that you have your new little pet and yes, I find your treating her like your own personal toy disgusting and unprofessional…but it is not enough to make me vandalize your office."

"But it upsets you to the point of taking a tone with me." Jonathan said, a hint of a smirk, folding his hands together in front of him, dropping his shoulders just barely. He tried to manufacture an air of relaxation around himself. No anger. No resentment. No underlying threats of violence.

Flustered, Mildred rubbed a chubby hand over his red face. "Forgive me, Dr. Crane. I didn't mean…"

"Yes, you did."

Mildred looked away from Jonathan, "That girl is not here for your amusement, Dr. Crane."

"That girl is here for whatever I deem her to be here for."

"You're her doctor."

"I've been running immoral fear experiments on the insane for over two years now. Ethics went out the window a long time ago."

"It isn't right."

"Did you really just say that?"

"Dr. Crane," Mildred said, taking in a deep breath and letting it out before he spoke again, "I don't want you to get personally involved with this patient. It can only end badly."

"Well, first of all," Jonathan said, fighting to keep his tone the smug, snide spoiled brat tone that he pulled off so well and not just slap Mildred across the face. He had hit a little too close to home. Jonathan was not ready to admit that he had put personal stock into Heather. He didn't want to admit to himself that there may have been more to the lure of her than a physical attraction. He was not ready to recognize their unanimity; their kindred souls. The fact that Mildred could already see that that was the path he was on his way down rubbed Jonathan entirely the wrong way. "what I do with my personal life is not yours to decide. Second of all, this has nothing to do with that, it has to do with your destruction of Arkham property."

"Do I have to say again that I did not do it?" Mildred pleaded.

"It's not necessary to. I won't believe you."

"So, this is what?" Mildred continued, trying to sound casual, waving the matter off. He picked up his clipboard and returned to making his copious notes. If nothing else, he was a stickler for details. "An informal reprimand? You'll call me into your office tomorrow to discuss my punishment for this alleged offense?"

"Wouldn't that be simple?" Jonathan said, moving in closer, slowly. A predator preparing to pounce.

"I'm sorry you think that I did this, Dr. Crane."

Something stirred in Jonathan's stomach. Excitement. Adrenaline. The anticipation of what was about to come. He was like hunter stalking his prey. He had always considered himself to be a cut above the rest; after all, he had been frighteningly intelligent since a very young age. He was a superior being and he knew it. But, now, he felt like a dominant species. The feeling was good. It was empowering. It was stimulating. It was even a little arousing, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought about throwing Heather up against that wall. Her small yelp of pain, and the thrill that had come with it. Dominance was almost a more powerful aphrodisiac than fear. Almost.

"Are you, Stanly?" Jonathan said, coming a little closer.

"Am I what?" Mildred said, looking up from where he was returning to his experiment. He had reached for his goggles.

"Are you sorry? I mean, really sorry, Stanly."

"Yes, Dr. Crane. It troubles me that you think me capable of what you're accusing me of."

"Not as troubled as you're going to be." Jonathan said.

Mildred started to turn around. "Wha…"

He never got to finish his question. Before he was fully turned around, Jonathan was on him. With lightening speed, he wrapped an arm around him from behind and punctured Mildred's soft neck with a syringe that he had been concealing in the palm of his hand for the entire conversation. Mildred let out a kind of gurgled squeal. Jonathan stroked his cheek and shushed in the man's ear. First, the large man's ankles wobbled, then his knees buckled and gave out. Soon, Dr. Stanly Mildred lay in a crumpled heap at Jonathan's feet.

Author's Note: Well, that's it for this one! Let me know what you think! Pretty please!