Issue #34: Ugly

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"Okay, full disclosure... if you don't give me a passing grade I'm going to kill you." Duela told me as we sat across from each other. Cute girl. I read up on her file last night as I was allowed to stay in the nursery free from distractions yesterday. She's... eerily similar to me. First run in with the law came two years ago, her junior year at an all girls high school her mom sent her to after she was caught trying to carve her face up. She was expelled after two months when she brutally beat the entire swim team within an inch of their lives and almost set the locker room on fire. She tried to make a Molotov cocktail after dousing one of the towels with beers she found in another girl's bag but couldn't start the lighter. Her reason for the attack? They called her ugly, which is probably the worst lie I've ever heard. She looked almost like an amalgamation of Tara and Komi at first glance, goth, short, pale girl with short red hair, seems to have somehow smuggled black lipstick into the prison, and has a bit of an almost Joan Jett punk rock like feel to her. She was arrested, found out she was adopted, broke out of juvie, lived out on the streets for a bit, claims to have eaten rats so she wouldn't get alone with... you know. Eventually she found the face of the Humorist as I'll be calling him to avoid confusion with the real Joker, or cut it off herself, went back and killed her old high school buddies with a sort of Joker-Jigsaw hybrid death gameshow. Streamed it to YouTube apparently. She also claims The Joker talks to her when she wears the mask.

She sat across from me, again, in a way I was very familiar with. Straight jacket, Hannibal Lecter Tiger mask that had made it hard to see the black lipstick mentioned earlier, with two guards pointing rifles at her head.

"Same goes to you. As you can probably tell you're not dealing with one of the halfwit doctors at Arkham Asylum."

"The matching PJs and the fact that I'm not the only one with a gun to my head made that obvious, yeah." She said. As mentioned I did have someone pointing a gun at me so I got no funny ideas with the pen I was currently tapping on the table.

"They don't like me holding writing utensils. My first week here I murdered another inmate with a pencil."

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

Not yet.

"We aren't at the scaring you stage yet. We don't believe it's necessary. I just thought it could be something we could share in common. You know about killing people your first week here, almost beat my brand new record."

"Fag deserved it. He was trying to rape me." She said. I let a chuckle slip. "You think that's fucking funny?"

"Not the rape part, no. It's just interesting because I killed the man I did because he called me that same thing."

"What? Are you afraid of the word fag or something? Are you one?"

"Why Ms. Dent, I don't know if I can continue seeing you if you use such profanity in my office."

"Don't like that word? I know some other ones. How about ni-" She was cut off by one of the guards that happened to be African American smashing the side of their rifle into her head.

"Ehehehehehehehehehehehe." I cackled along with the ghost. Meanwhile I wrote down "obvious need for attention, even negative attention. Willing to use shock value to get a rise out of people. Clearly was never loved as a child, although I guess that was obvious for someone whose preferred father figure is The Joker."

"Thank you, sir. May I have another?" She asked before getting hit again.

"That'll do, dipshits." I told the guards. "I suppose I have to thank you before we fully get down to business. I was planning on killing that bastard myself. You beat me to the punchline, I guess." I said before I was hit upside the head as well.

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