Christmas Scrooge
Chapter 1
It was the 12th of December in Gotham City, and due to the weather, nobody was outside, the snow was pouring, and the city streets were devoid of life.
Yet such circumstances made it perfect for a prison break.
Two guards were viciously hurled out of a cell, taking along with them a severely mauled steel door with them.
Killer Croc smiled as he walked out of the door. Unusually no alarms sounded. But then again, Arkham Asylum was known to have the occasional winter power outage.
He brushed a speck of blood off his dull brown vest as he walked, picking up one of the guard's sidearm, and checked it for a full clip before setting it inside his inside vest pocket.
As he glimpsed at the weapon, his mind silently registered it as a Beretta 92FS pistol, and a 15-round staggered magazine when he saw the mag. Almost like the one he held at his side in the Corps.
He briskly walked down the aisle, oblivious to the voices of the other inmates that resided in the asylum. His tail brushed along the floor as a smile appeared on his reptilian face. His body was lean due to lack of food, but underneath his scaly hide were whipcord-like muscles that were strong enough to dent steel with ease.
He briskly walked down the staircase, and as a confused guard looked up from the bottom of the stairs, he quickly pulled out the pistol and pulled the trigger once.
The round tore through the guards head, and without a sound, slumped to the floor, dead.
As the reptilian criminal stepped over the dead body, he searched the body and found another magazine for the Beretta pistol and slipped it into a pocket on his vest.
As he prepared to make good his escape, a loud thump was heard off to the side. He turned his head and noticed Poison Ivy slamming her fists on the glass wall covering a side of her "special" cell. Due to her power of controlling plants, they removed from her cell anything that was plant-like, kept a wall made of glass for constant surveillance and bolted down everything in her room.
By the looks of it Ivy looked to be in poor condition. Her rose-like hairstyle was now a wild mess of hair, and her normally green skin was unnaturally pale. As well as all of that, her normally powerful pounding was rather weak, with her attempt to slam at the wall somewhat half-hearted.
He knew the sight all too well, for during past imprisonments he was occasionally left in her cell whenever he damaged his own cell, partly because he had a lesser chance of damaging the cell as well as his doctors hoping that he would possibly kill Ivy, or vice-versa.
He would have normally have called it was a simple acquaintanceship, but when Ivy had mentioned the fact that they were friends, he had to for once agree with her.
As he stared emotionlessly at his friend, he finally heard words emitting from her mouth.
"Croc, get me out of here!" she repeated, almost pleadingly.
He started to turn away, until he heard her use a term he had not been called in a long time.
"Waylon!"
He turned his head to the side, exposing the left side of his face towards her, his scar over his eye evident.
He stood for a moment in thought. He had connections to his rather large organization of crime at the docks, but once word gets out of his escape, that would be the first place they would look, as well as looking into his underground home in the sewers. But then again, would they seriously think to search for him in another villain's home? Even villains had a code amongst themselves, with the only person that would even think of breaking being the Joker, for obvious reasons.
He raised his pistol and fired two rounds.
The two bullets spat from the weapon, the first one hitting the composite glass and leaving a massive circular crack, and the second one landing almost on top of the first one's impact, shattering the glass into a brilliant dust.
The event was surprising enough that Ivy did not have time to move away from the wall she was pounding on, and fell to the ground in an undignified heap.
Croc, not bothering to see if his friend was following him, strode down the corridor once more, opened the door at the far end, and reached the security room, with live camera feeds and a room where all the guards normally were in when relaxing.
There was only one two people there, a male guard standing off to the side, and a young woman in the seat in front of all the surveillance camera feeds.
He quickly grabbed the man, snapped his neck before he could fire his firearm, and threw the dead body onto the woman, effectively pinning her to her chair, as well as giving him enough time to rip the microphone attached to her ear and smashing it beneath his foot.
As the young blonde squirmed in her chair, staring at the apparent monstrosity looking at her, he turned away to look at the door within the room, which read ARMORY in large capital letters.
He turned towards the woman.
"Tell me how to open the door or I will do what I did to the weight holding you down." He snarled menacingly.
"C…C….Card…ID card…on…belt…." She shakily replied, nodding her head at the dead body on top of her.
He quickly strode back to the two people, ripped the card off the dead body, and turned the chair around before walking to the door and opening it with the card.
The door opened to show a room with enough weapons to keep a company of soldiers fully armed.
He strode to the far corner of the room, with a few shelves marked Confiscated Weaponry, and pulled his familiar Mossberg 500 shotgun off the rack before turning around to view the other selections available.
He grabbed a bag of shells for the shotgun, followed by yet more clips for his Beretta pistol, and then, out of instinct from the Marine Corps, grabbed a M16 off the rack, as well as a few clips, and then spied a model of pistol that he last saw only as a child, and it being in the possession of his patriotic but drunk father, and so grabbed an old Colt 1911 pistol off the rack, with only the clip already inside it, and slipped it into his jacket as a memento.
As he stepped out of the room, looking even more menacing with all the weapons and ammo on him, and spied Poison Ivy standing at the door, looking at the dead body and scared woman with contempt.
"I thought you had a no survivor's policy." The teenage villainess said.
"Well, look who's talking. The villainess doing all the killing for the environment." He answered with a growl, before ending the conversation with a blast from his shotgun, blasting apart the control consoles that controlled the surveillance video, purposely leaving only one section unscathed.
He walked to said section, and hovered a clawed finger over a red button.
"Here goes the neighborhood." He snarled out loud. "And may Gotham tremble at my actions."
He then pressed the button.