Agent of Chaos

After my assault on doors ceased and I locked it, I came into the room fully. This room was my get-away, my hideout, my sanctuary. I walked calmly over towards the dresser near the corner. Pulling out the appropriate clothes and dressing right on the spot, I wrapped my hands in cloth and proceeded towards the center again. One of the best releases that I could ever have was a punching bag. Beating the shit out of things really helps.

I began my attack on the beat up bag and almost an hour later, I felt a little more relaxed and much sweatier. I quickly hopped into my shower and cleansed my body of the dirty feelings. I got out, dressed, and made my way out of the room.

I'm sure you're all sort of wondering exactly what's going on with the house, right? Well, my house happens to be on the very edges of Gotham, and I mean the farthest edge you can get to with still being in the limits. I inherited the house many years ago along with some other handy assets. Why does J also inhabit my home? That's a much longer story for another time, but for now I can tell you how. In the basement of my home happens to be a long underground corridor that leads to an abandoned home a ways away.

Lastly, who am I? The most common answer to that is that I am Doc. That's what almost everyone I know calls me, minus my family, but that was a considerabley long time ago. I am a doctor, I have my degrees, but I don't put them towards much. I work at clinics part time, but with what I've inherited, I don't need to be anything full time; it's just to keep me busy. My expertise is normally lent to other measures, all closely related to J. He figured out a few years back that my knowledge could be of some use to him. To be a good artist, you need to well understand your subjects. Lending my mind to the man simpley allows his performance to increase, not that he needs it.

Our symbiosis is mainly towards our common goals, breaking people down. Sure, being a doctor does mean helping people and in a sense, putting them back together, but that does not mean that they have to be kept as such. Obviously, they must be broken before I can fix them, physically that is. Our mental rages are hardly fixable. You can only put so many pieces back together before they themselves become too small for humpty dumpty to ever be right again.

J and I have been around eachother for the past four years. The first couple weren't so enjoyable, but things have changed and as I named it before, we have a symbiotic relationship.

My anger earlier that sprayed that unlucky man's brains all over the place was because of a previous infatuation, if that even fits well. The woman that laid on that bed laid there because of her most recent predicament. She was my lover andshe had an encounter with a man that I absolutely despise with every ounce of my being.
She had been by my side for way longer than I had known J. She knew me in nearly every sense possible, as much as I'd allow someone in. Now, that moronic man had taken her from me. However, I knew exactly what else would make me feel better.

I left the hallway and walked over towards where she had been. A few of J's men were starting to clean up the mess I had made of that trash, but I pushed past them and dug into that man's pockets and pulled out a wallet. Tsk tsk tsk, keeping this upon himself was a very dumb idea.

I opened it and peered inside, I threw the useless stuff on the floor, meaning the cash and anything else that wasn't what I needed. I took out his license and found his address, along with a few pictures of him and his wife. I could find a little solace elsewhere.