A/N: You don't have to read Arkham Asylum to get this, but I'd recommend it, especially with the way everyone jizzes their pants for Jeff Hardy. (That was in no way meant to be offensive to anybody; I'm just in a terrible mood lately). That story will just kind of explain the mood of this one. Sorry it's short. I have to go to work.

"Name?"

"Version 1.0."

"Name?"

"MFer."

"Name?"

"The Twister of Fate."

"Name?"

"Do you give up yet, madam?"

The petite brunette gently placed her clipboard down on the table. "Look, I already know your name, Mr. Hardy."

"Then why do you keep sounding like a broken record, asking me the same thing over and over? What good is asking the question if you already know the answer?" Matt Hardy exclaimed, rolling up the sleeve of his white uniform t-shirt.

"Because I need to know if you know the answer."

"Of course I know what my name is, Heather. Is that what you want to hear?"

"I think it would be more polite if you referred to me by my professional name, Mr. Hardy," Heather insisted, picking up her clipboard once more.

"What? You want me to call you Doctor Heather? Pompous, much?"

"Doctor Klein."

"Alright, Doctor Klein. What do I get if I admit that my name is Matt Hardy, hm? Will the nice doctor give me a lollipop?"

"Mr. Hardy, admitting your name is the first step in your recovery process."

Matt arched an eyebrow. "Why's that?"

"Because then we'd know that there's still a human somewhere inside of you."