[ WP ] As a journalist , you sit down with the most dangerous criminal mind in the world for a rare chance at an interview . He 's insane . But his story changes everything you 've ever known ...

I did n't think that my life would be changed so drastically before I met him. Of course I expected something to change. You do n't just meet him and go about your business. But the difference of my life from before I met him to after I met him is simply too much. Let me tell you the story. 
 
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 I walked in through gilded mahogany doors. The kind of doors that simply spoke decadence and power. As I walked through I expected to see a seemingly large and powerful man in a tailored suit. What I saw was not what I expected. He sat there cross legged simply staring out the window. There was no desk or any other ornament or furniture to speak of. Simply a chair that he was currently occupying. *What about me? * I wondered as I walked towards him. The man cackled as he spun towards me. `` Im sure you're wondering why I brought you here.. Jimmy.'' He said as he smiled. It was a machiavellian smile. Charming and sweet, but fully capable of disarming even the most stoic of opponents. I shivered in trepidation. `` But in all seriousness, why are you here? Oh, and take the chair.'' He said as he fluidly hopped off of the object in question. He began pacing around the room, almost as if he were mind numbingly bored. 
 `` I-I'm here to interview you, sir.'' I said. Wondering if perhaps this was some cruel prank that Jeremy and the others managed to pull. I said nothing of the fact that Jimmy was n't my name, I was simply too scared - however for the sake of the reader I will stipulate that my name is in fact Helen Cleary. - He spun towards me suddenly and took two fast steps before he halted. He looked out the window again, almost as if he could see the world in a fashion that others could not. Perhaps he could. I would n't doubt it if he told me that. 
 `` Ah, yes, the journalist. Jimmy. I like you. Well, ask away!'' He said in a sing-song tone as he began to skip around the empty room, occasionally stopping to lie down and bask in the sunlight. 
 `` I would first like to ask you how it is you came to be in power, sir.'' I said. He rolled over and hopped up to his feet. After briskly strutting over towards the opposite wall he leaned against it and looked towards me calculatingly. 
 `` First: No'Sir' stuff. Call me Malcolm or Malcy, or Monkowak. Second: Wrong question. Do n't ask me how, you know how, I alluded to murder. Ask me *why* I came into power.'' He said as he picked at his fingernails. I shuddered at the reminder that this man standing before me has without a doubt murdered hundreds of individuals. 
 `` W-Why did you come to power, Malcom?'' I asked, notebook and recorder at the ready. He looked at me with his head tilted, in a manner akin to a predator sizing up their prey. *Did he just lick his lips? * 
 `` Because I wanted to, of course.'' He quickly looked down at the ground and frowned. Wondering what it was that could possibly annoy him I looked down as well. That was when I noticed it. The ground of the room was glass, and underneath the glass was a giant analog clock. `` Last question, make sure you think long and hard on this one.'' He said as he began to dance a partnerless dance throughout the room. Occasionally stopping to do a headbang. I looked at him, this flibbertigibbet who seemed harmless. Then it dawned on me. He said that he had `` alluded to murder''. 
 `` Malcolm, how many people did you actually kill?'' I asked. He stopped as soon as my sentence ended. He slowly spun towards me and looked me deep in the eyes. I'd seen a murderer's eyes before, these were not them. These eyes were jovial and full of life and control. They did not witness the faces of their countless victims whenever they were sheathed in darkness. Then he smiled brightly, his machiavellian smile. 
 `` Why, none of course!''
