AN: Before we get into this story, I want to clarify a few things so nobody gets confused or yells at me about certain parts of this fic.

First and foremost, I'm familiar with all the versions of Croc (except New 52) so if you're wondering why I wrote him like this, I made my own version which is a cross between his The Batman counterpart and the Arkham Asylum counterpart because those are my two favorite versions. He also holds some aspects of his comic counterparts too. All other characters are also mainly mixes of their TB and AA counterparts, aside from Baby Doll, Bane, Jervis and Jonathan whom can be whichever version you choose to see them as.

Secondly, I am aware of how the military really works. The reason I altered its standings is because this is the DC Universe we're talking about. There are multiple timelines that take place in past or future eras so you never know, the rules could've changed.

Hopefully, there's nothing else I need to add so enjoy!


It was easy to say he was used to it. Nobody understood him, why he did the things he did. So when the people of Gotham stared with malice, calling him an animal and a freak, he could only gaze back and display his sharp fangs. Even in shackles designed for him and him alone, he could still hold his head up in pride…but for how long?

Once in the Asylum, the guards were just the same as the citizens with their condescending glares. They said the doctors and the patrols were there to help patients like him but if anything, they only made his anger rise and his urge to murder even greater. Then there was the irony of everything: he wasn't even insane. He was actually deemed stable but no penitentiary wanted to take him in, not even Blackgate and that was the prison that took in Bane prior.

He was stuck here as a monster, nothing less but also nothing more. He also may have been an animal physically but on the other hand, most would find he was the least beastly in mind when he desired to be. But hey, humanity was a capricious bitch.

He did, however, find some humor among his "condition", or curse as some people insisted. It turns out he was able to walk as a quadruped with a tail to keep balance. In the view of others, he apparently looked like a dinosaur with pants. This he didn't mind really. In fact, the ability to go on all fours gave him the advantage of speed, equilibrium, and acceptance of his immoral form.

Waylon strode down the corridors with several guards trailing him and a doctor near his side. His collar, customized to be an electric spiked choker to parody his animal appearance, seemed to tighten around his neck when he grew tense of being in such close range to who he considered his enemies. Trying not to alert the guards he wasn't in a decent mood, he suppressed the flickering of his tail that often acted on his emotions. If they noticed he was becoming agitated, they would immediately deny him the chance to see the other inmates, the only people who understood him and kept him calm.

The broken chain attached to his choker clattered when he whipped his crocodilian shaped head towards the windows they were passing. Beyond the fragile glass lied Gotham in its gloomy beauty. His henchmen, his pets, and his sewers sat there awaiting their leader's return.

"You wishin' to go back to your town cage, Croc? Don't like the one we have here? Now you're just being ungrateful!" One of the lookouts laughed as Waylon simply scowled.

The guards of the doors at the end of the hallway opened them, not even batting an eye at Jones when he lowered his head a bit to clear the frame. They did, however, growl at him when his tail accidently bumped into them on the way through. The place he had no choice but to go in was, if anything, a decent lobby styled conference room.

Among several of the chairs in a circle sat Pamela, his ex-girlfriend but still great colleague. He remembered they had to break up due to Waylon's judgement that she wouldn't be happy with him and the stress that followed. She protested but he finally convinced her to allow him just to be a friend. Bane was also present, positioned backwards in a seat with his head resting on his crossed arms. He was on way better terms with the luchador-themed man now than twelve years ago when Bane first arrived in Gotham and targeted him since he was the most physically powerful Rogue in the city. Broke both his arms and damaged his sewers, he did. Now though, Bane was one of his best allies and they found a lot of things in common. They even taught each other their language with Bane's being Spanish and his being French.

There were other friends of his in the room like Langstrom who was thankfully human at the moment, Jonathan, Jervis, Mary, Harley, Victor, Garfield, and Drury…well actually he was "Charaxes" now. Walker took an experimental chemical shower more than a few years prior and he was now currently a huge humanoid moth monster but he at least retained his sweet personality and lovable nature. It did help he also was very fluffy.

"Crocky!" Mary squealed, running towards the Rogue she considered her father.

She easily climbed up his awaiting arms and placed herself right behind his head to sit upon the spine of his neck. Cuddling him as he rolled his reptilian eyes, Baby Doll cooed when he moved to lie on his front into a set of unoccupied bean bag chairs clustered up between Bane and Killer Moth. The latter of the two lied similarly to him on another cluster as both the animal-based could not inhabit chairs without breaking or severely denting them. Drury, however, was more cat-like resting upon his make-shift seat, keeping his enlarged raptorial tibia tucked beneath his body.

"Heh, look who decided to show up! We've been waiting on you for fifteen minutes. What took you so long, mi querido viejo amigo?" Bane chuckled, reaching down to scratch beneath the crocodile's chin where he knew it was most sensitive.

Croc playfully shooed the hand away as he laughed, "Since when did I become your main concern? You ain't growing attached to me, are you partenaire?"

"You wish, Waylon."

The enormous insect clicked his tongue sarcastically, "Just kiss and make up already! You guys are bugging me!"

"Ha, did you really wait to make that pun, Drury?" Garfield scoffed as he rested his head on Freeze's lap. He was using two chairs to lie down and merely gave the suited man a delighted glance. Victor used the computerized pure red optics that shined through his spiked ice helm to imitate the expression of being intrigued with the look upon his companion's face. His metal-covered gloves were somewhat entangled in the arsonist's blond hair, stroking through it mockingly.

"At least my jokes work half the time," Killer Moth retorted, smiling with his grotesque fangs and upturned mandibles when Firefly shot him a cold look.

Scarecrow pinched the bridge of his nose, "You are all behaving like children when we are supposed to be the adults we aged as…apart from you Mary, you're the exception to this."

Baby Doll gave a pleased smirk when suddenly they all heard an "ahem". Turning towards the now closing doors, some of them gagged in annoyance when the saw who it was.

Jonathan moaned, "Out of everyone we could've had. I wanted Penelope. At least she's witty and cute at times."

Doctor Sarah Cassidy gave, what everyone assumed was, a faux smile as she made her way to her seat while her guards and several orderlies spreading across the room to make the supervillains feel less apprehensive by their presence.

She briefly examined Croc before clearing her throat, "Welcome ladies and gentlemen to our group therapy session. Today I wish to explore more in-depth backgrounds on each of you, if you please. We would all like to hear a side of you that no one may know to broaden our views of you, to understand who you are and who you want people to see you as."

Jervis shook his head slightly, tipping his certified prison top hat to put a shadow over his emerald green eyes. Some of the others also showed signs of unease with Crane drooping a little in his chair and Kirk enfolding his hands together prior to burying them between his thighs in an act of obvious discomfort and nervousness. Sometimes the past was best left behind but unfortunately, Cassidy was one of the people who didn't believe that as she simply peered at her patients with minor frustration.

"Harleen, how about we start with you? Is there something that you could tell us about yourself nobody here knows?"

The harlequin's normal cheery bravado faltered, "Um…well, I…uh…I was, at first, forced into becoming a psychiatrist by my father who kept complaining that I would never amount to anything. He said the medical industry was booming right now and that my talents of making friends with the unlikeliest of people would give me an advantage. So I pumped my grades up, went to a high-class university and the rest is history. I'll be honest though, the first year there I used my charm and good looks to pass the classes but eventually, I straightened out and actually took an interest in it."

Sarah finished writing notes on her clipboard when she gave another unfamiliar grin, "That's very fascinating, Ms. Quinzel. Thank you for sharing that. Who's next?"

Once again nobody said a thing. When Doctor Cassidy's eyes met one of Waylon's, he swore he saw a glimmer of mischief in them. "Perhaps Mr. Jones would like to speak?"

Killer Croc didn't really move his head from the beanbag's edge, only raised a brow before calmly replying, "Nah, I'm good."

"Why not, Waylon? You have the most prominent enigmas about your past that no one recognizes. Will you ever tell anyone? Do you not want them to know the real you? Do you not want them to know how you came to appear like a crocodile? I know for a fact you are not the product of just a skin condition. There is something else, isn't there?"

"I will not let you destroy it!"

"No please! Please don't!"

"It hurts! Make it sto-AAAAAHHHH!"

"You're already half animal, Waylon; I'm just helping you complete your change."

Screams, his own cries began to echo through his mind. An infirmary, a needle, and a voice he loathed briefly scoured through him. Flashes of memories he wanted to forget made him drag his head close to his body, peering down and closing his eyes hoping the thoughts would perish. He didn't want to remember that! In a shaky but low voice, he frowned, "I don't wish to tell you."

Cassidy's face didn't seem as bright as it was a minute ago. It appeared more stressed and ghoulish…and dare he say it, ugly. For a second, he thought Clayface may have been in Sarah's place instead.

"Waylon Jones, this isn't a choice. You, unlike most of the patients of Arkham sans Joker, are extremely uncooperative. Nobody can help you if you don't let them-"

"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP! I'm not sick in the head! I'm not a pet because I look like an animal that you can prod at! I'm still human!"

The guards immediately held up their weapons in response to Waylon's outburst and rise. Baby Doll cowered behind him and whimpered, leaping towards Killer Moth who let the little woman sit on his back. Slowly, Croc realized his actions and tried to calmly lie back down, bowing his head a little as the guards lowered their guns.

Then he peered back up to Cassidy angrily, "Fine, you want to know what happened to me? Why I'm like…this!? Shut up and let me explain then and if you interrupt me once, I'll stop! Do you understand, Doc?"

Sarah was still on edge of the surge of words but she shook her head rather rapidly as she bit her lip in fear.

"Alright, where to start? As you know, I was born with a rare skin condition that made me a bit hideous but not as much as you thought. It actually didn't cover my entire body but I ain't going into too much detail. So yeah anyway, my mother died in the hospital not long after giving birth to me although she did see the beginning stages of my condition but apparently loved me nonetheless as the doctors had scribbled down in archive notes. My father didn't know what to think of me but he didn't exactly hate me. He was, if anything, tremendously concerned that I wouldn't be able to do anything. He only had me for about a year and then he ended up being killed on the streets.

"After that, child services sent me to my Aunt's house and this lady was a bitch. I mean smoking, drinking constantly and she blamed me for my mother's death who was her sister. So she beat me, used every excuse she could to take out her anger on me. In public, we put on a façade that I was bullied by the other kids in my block only and she was just a worried caretaker who didn't know what to do about them. It worked for the most part but I had hoped someone would see through it and save me."

"You're fuckin' nothing, boy! Nothing! You're a fuckin' disgrace to this family! Abomination!"

"Who do you think they are going to believe, Waylon? A troubled kid who looked like he got ran over by a truck and bathed in the ocean until nasty barnacles leeched on his black bitch ass? Or are they gonna see the weepin' aunt who can't do anything and can't afford any medical bullshit?"

"Go join your father in hell, ya worthless ass bastard!"

"Over time, I started taking the frustrations of the abuse out on others, specifically my personal bullies in middle school. I grew to be my own bully and never was able to learn much because the classes they put me in were for Special Ed students just because I looked like a freak. Had I been put in normal classes, I could've become an engineer or maybe a technician. Hell, there was a small possibility I could've helped the technological world if I was given the chance," Waylon scoffed.

"This gator boy ain't intelligent enough to wipe his own ass! Go back to ya bayou, ya mama's probably got human gumbo awaitin' ya. Assumin' you eat like one of them gators."

"Look at him, he looks like a monster! I can't put this little 'un in my classroom with the other children. They won't be able to learn if they're scared to death about comin' to my class an' getting' eaten!"

All of his peers gaped at him. Even Ivy, whom he had actually told his story to before, still looked distraught as she did the first time she heard it. Of course, she knew he was far from done.

"For those of you who haven't noticed, I'm very good with computers, vehicles, etc. Most of that was self-taught because I was denied the rights to learn. One of my sewer lanes exits right near the dump and I've found a lot of thrown away technology there, fixed them up for my own use over the years. You could argue if you've ever seen me in action, that I'm not the greatest at it but like I said, I never got the proper training at a young year so can you blame me? Although, my Army career sure did teach me a thing or two about certain types of technology.

"So on and so forth, I stole textbooks, literature, and language books from the library to increase my knowledge behind my teachers' backs. And I did this until sophomore year of high school when I finally said 'fuck it'. I enrolled in the Army at fifteen from there to get away from the pain. I left behind my Aunt, my school, my city just because I hated everything about them for what they turned me into. Turns out that wasn't the end at all.

"Got past Boot Camp no problem despite Sergeant went after me the most. The look on his face when I reached Colonel nearly twenty two years later was priceless. Of course, those were the greatest years of my life until I met you assholes. Heh, I made several friends in there too. One of which was an off duty Air Force pilot-turned-mechanic who ended up sneaking us to his private hangar and taught us how to fly…or at least the basics of it. We didn't get much air time because the damn runway was monitored closely and the only time we could go without risk of consequence was on his farm where he housed three jets he 'borrowed'. Don't remember what happened to him but we weren't ever discovered surprisingly…

Croc began to snarl and raised his voice viciously, "…Then the tragedy of it all happened. One of my friends, Major Steven Holmes, contacted me. He…he lured me to his private research medical wing where he worked part time and showed me what he was trying to do to improve the military's soldiers, mostly inspired by my skin condition. He told me that he was using animal DNA to try and give their troops the abilities of said animals. I was disgusted-I told him to destroy the project, that he would be hurting people! Then he grew angry at me and he…"

A flood of sorrow washed over him as he lifted his hands to view his claws, his now reptilian features.


Steven grabbed a needle and quickly filled it with the reconstructed crocodile serum he had before presenting it to Waylon, who stood in shock at the compound as the Major flicked the glass in a humorous tone. He couldn't wrap his mind around the outright horror of his friend's creation.

"You see, Waylon, we could take unique characteristics of each animal and embed them into the human system to give us abilities God denied us years ago. It would, of course, be our little secret but imagine the brute force of a crocodile given to, let's say, Jablonsky! He would be nearly able to lift the equivalent of a small car!"

The Colonel rubbed the back of his neck in uncertainty, "I mean, it sounds cool and everything but…"

"But what? This is our future of survival! How can you not be interested in what this can bring? You're already halfway there, Jones and with this condition, you technically more fit than most of the damn Army," Holmes slightly growled.

Waylon began to shake his head and pointed at himself, "There's going to be side effects, I can already see it and I don't want anybody else suffering from this…this…state! This is all just monstrous, like evil scientist horrible! You-you can't let people become experiments! This is wrong and I need to report it before it gets out of hand! I'm sorry but for your safety and for the safety of the people, we need to destroy this!"

The Major narrowed his eyes as the Colonel turned as he operated his cell phone. A brief look towards the needle he held made a small flash of a smile appear. He then muttered to himself, "You know, I always wondered what happens if someone were to take the entire syringe."

Suddenly he roared, "I will not let you destroy it!"

Before Waylon could react, a sharp kick to the spine made him tumble and drop his phone which skidded a few feet from him. Turning on his back, he glanced in terror as Steven stood over him with a deranged look in his eyes as the needle was held up like a knife.

"I WILL NOT LET YOU DESTROY IT!" Holmes repeated.

"No please! Please don't!"

Nothing could stop that syringe going down as it punctured the Colonel's shoulder. Waylon clamped his teeth shut to prevent a pained scream. As he moved to his front, clutching his arm, Steven simple backed away in fear of what he had done. But that moment of being scared vanished as soon as it came. He found a rather uncouth thrill from the dreadful crime he had just committed even if it was against his best friend.

"It hurts! Make it sto-AAAAAHHHH!"

"You're already half animal, Waylon; I'm just helping you complete your change."

Waylon lurched up in agony while Steven watched in awe. Bones made unnatural sounds as they increased at a scary rate. The inner muscles of his body reorganized themselves into animalistic features that even Holmes couldn't bear to gawk at. Though it seemed Waylon's masculine physique remained the same but enhanced. His spine bent and shifted, ripping the fabric of his uniform while spikes lined his backside and... his tail! Waylon grew an extension of his spine which sprouted into a tail that tore most of his trousers within seconds.

"HELP….ME-RRRRRAAAAWWWWRRRR!"

The dinosaur-like bellow made the Major curl himself into a corner as the facial features of his commanding officer extended and popped into an ungodly sight, twisting the shape of his head into what anybody would believe as a dragon's. Jagged teeth line the enlarged reptilian mouth of the newly stretched snout, flaunting dangerously in every roar of discomfort. The pupils of Waylon's eyes overshadowed the entire sclera before sclera itself became a void black and the returning irises turned a golden yellow, slit pupils taking the place of the originals.

The feet and hands of the Colonel changed with claws breaking through the skin attached to the bone itself. A greyish black coloring dominated their scheme. His hands kept all five fingers but his feet only had three toes now, the middle digit was slightly larger than the outer two. The hind legs also positioned more dinosaur-like with wider hips to accommodate balance to the tail and stability on what seemed to be both his biped and quadruped movements.

By the time the transformation was finished and Waylon passed out from it, several officers and soldiers flew into the room with guns. They paused in horror as they saw a knocked out humanoid crocodile lying on top of the shredded remains of Waylon's uniform. When they saw Steven, one of the officers grabbed the man by the collar.

"What happened here, Major!? What the hell did you do to Colonel Waylon Jones!?"


His brows angled downward, "I became a monster and I felt every part of the transformation that day. When I awoke, at first I couldn't speak but eventually, my vocals began to work although they did come out rather slurred for the first week or two. My commanding officer told me that he had no choice but to court-martial Steven and put me on honorary discharge as I was deemed too unpredictable in my new form. Plus nobody knew the downside to my upgraded condition so it was best not to take the risk. I didn't request though to hide my military service records from public access as well as medical and such because I didn't want the hassle to explain the past. To me, it wasn't worth it.

"So they did just that although they were kind enough to reformat three of my uniforms to fit my new size which included a sleeve for my tail…but no shoes. I can't wear shoes; the sensitive skin between them cannot rub together for long periods of time or it causes horrible irritation."

He paused before peering back down towards his bean bag seat in embarrassment.

"Waylon, I-I never realized…I mean…you went through all that pain and no one dared to do anything?" Bane asked in a hesitant voice he was not familiar with.

Croc nodded as Killer Moth spoke, "My god, I don't think I could've survived all that. How did you find the strength to continue?"

"To be honest, I wanted to die several times but I thought to myself, 'life holds small adventures every day and who am I to miss them when I can find out more about myself as well as what I can truly do'."

Harley raised her hand like a little kid until Waylon gave her the go-ahead. "You said you joined the military when you were fifteen and spent twenty-two years there. How old are you now? How long since…the betrayal?"

"Well I'm fifty now so it's been thirteen years."

"My dear Jabberwocky, you see March Hare and I are good with certain types of technology. You could've just asked us if you wanted to learn! We'd be more than happy to teach you tricks and good tips! Jonny, I do believe we could also convince Dormouse to spare some time to help Waylon too," Jervis smiled sweetly. "Oh and Bandersnatch, would you help him?"

Kirk grinned, "I can do that. Francine and I don't have any current projects planned so she'll be available as well."

The Mad Hatter clapped his hands, "Oh how wonderful!"

Croc wagged his tail, "Why thank you, Hatter! All of you, I'd really appreciate it!"

Everyone, including the guards and orderlies, began talking to one another in amazement about Waylon as the latter smirked when Baby Doll once again climbed on top of him but this time sat on his muzzle and wrapped her arms across his head. He accepted the semi-hug with a chuckle.

Ivy walked over and also put her arms around Waylon's collared neck. She then whispered, "I'm so proud of you. My plants are also very pleased you finally revealed what's been haunting you for so long. You deserve to be free of the despicable pain humanity has ailed you with. Trust me, I'll make them suffer for you."

Croc nuzzled into her hold, missing her pleasurable embrace. Mary eventually slid down and both ladies returned to their seats when a new voice rang against the chatter.

"Ahem."

Sarah Cassidy fiddled with her pen in the air but most noticed she had hardly written anything down. In fact, the pages were empty save for the notes she took of Harley prior. "You were in the military?"

"Yes ma'am," he replied in a dull tone.

She then simply continued, "I have to apologize for pushing you. I didn't realize your situation was that horrifying. I'm so sorry."

Scowling, Croc brought himself up on all fours and turned to leave. Nobody dared to stop him, not even his armed escort. Before he reached the doors, however, he turned back to Cassidy.

"No you ain't, bitch."

Raising his tail to mimic the iconic sass of a cat as he strolled through the exit and he heard the applauding of his peers, Waylon couldn't help but smirk. It felt good that his friends finally knew the truth. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest. He knew, however, Cassidy didn't truly care nor did the rest of Arkham staff. Now he didn't know how Gotham Police or the Batman would react to all of this but he could assume Batman was at least more sensible.

He knew crocodile tears when he sees them. He's no stranger to it. But he could care less at this point. The only concern now was how fast his story travels and what it will bring.


AN(2): Since it was never established what background The Batman version of Croc had, I made one up slightly based off of his origin comic. Also I assume over the years (especially in the Army) his southern accent wore down so that's why he doesn't really have his signature Cajun voice but of course it most likely will return when he becomes stressed or extremely angry.

Also, I decided to change the nature of Baby Doll and Croc's relationship to a more father-daughter type of partnership because the pedophilia implied in TNBA seemed a bit out of character for him. I hated it. Plus, I included hinted pairings like Freeze/Firefly, Ivy/Croc, Bane/Croc, and Scarecrow/Dr. Young because I personally find them cute and perfect.