Disclaimer: I own none of the preexisting elements ( such as copyrighted characters, places, etc.) that I am using, with no consent whatsoever of the creaters/ owners, in my completely unprofessional and unprofiting attempt at a "story". (But I can wish, can't I?)

Author's Note: Yo. As first of first of firsts, this chapter is Leader O' Da Pack. It is the beginner of something new. Something fantastic. Something, I hope, is going to benefit ALL of us. The beginner of my Alternative Young Justice stories, and therefore, you guys don't know anything on the subject of "Background." So here it is: This story uses the Young Justice Season 1 versions of most of the characters, unless otherwise 'Noted by moi, but does not line up with Young Justice Continuity. Robin (Grayson) is the same, is 13. KF is same, is 14. . . . . And, of course, I promised you all an alien fugitive... Well, you guys'll just have'ta put on your waiting hats and be patient. But fear not, she- - oops, HINT- - she will come.

-I-

Wrestling Crocodiles

Gotham City. May 7. 20:27 EST.

The sewer was dank. It smelled damp and garbagy and rodenty and... well, sewery. Robin thought the place was depulsive.

"This place is depulsive, Boss!" he quietly complained.

But Batman offered no acknowledgment. He just kept walking in front, leading, brooding. He did not ask what Robin meant by "depulsive". He had already come to terms with the fact that one of the wonders of the so-called "Teen Wonder" was the ability to reshape words: Whelmed from over-/ underwhelmed; aster from disaster; and, in this case, depulsive from repulsive.

With his shadow-black cape trailing behind him in the surface of the murky, disgusting sewer water, Robin stepped up to Batman's left, beginning to become frantic in the claustrophobic tunnel, just as the Dark Knight Detective had said it would.

"What the heck are we doing down here, Boss," Robin asked, looking for the encouragement that he knew would not come. He also knew what the heck they were doing down there, in the dark, depressing sewer.

He remembered the training session when he had been told about taking out the Killer Croc. Killer Croc. So what, Robin had thought. A murderer with a funny schtick that matches his name. Oooooh, scary. He'd beaten a whole bunch of those idiots. But Robin had never fought anyone even close to Killer Croc. This guy was one Batman had fought; never with Robin. As the Boss had told Robin the KCs' specks, Robin had grown increasingly worried. Razorsharp teeth, dogish- crocish- snout, scale-armoured tail, completely mutated and insanely strong body, and an uncontrolled rage without any hope of being tempered.

The Dynamic Duo had drilled the strategy five and seven and twelve times. When the Flying Grayson would get something wrong, or have doubts, or feel that he couldn't go on, the Demon of the Night would offer encouragement and advice, but he kept warning him, "Don't count on this friendly encouragement and helpful advice from me. In the heat of battle,will there be any friendly encouragement or helpful advice? NO. So don't get off expecting it."

And the Boss had been right on two counts: It wouldn't be there and Robin shouldn't have been looking for it. But he was and the only message to be found on those emotionless white slats that served for the masked manhunter's eyes was 'stay alert, get focused, be vigilant, and prepare for the fight.'

Grayson would just have to do his best.

The sewer water had been picking up speed for the last few minutes, though from the rainwater gushing into the sewer from the street surface gutters or from something... more foreboding... Robin couldn't tell. Another thing Robin couldn't be sure of was the elapsing of time: Those minutes mentioned earlier? They were only minutes as far as Grayson, Robin, knew. In a dark sewer with no way to tell time, you couldn't exactly tell minutes from seconds from hours from minutes .

One thing he was very sure about, though, was the darkness. The sewer seemed to stretch on endlessly. There was no light to see the ends of the squat tunnel, or even the sides, except what meager light did come from the gutters and their light sticks. Even that light, though, was only enough to see gross circles of sewer water around them. There could be any number of supply closets and auxiliary tunnels and decayed patches in the wall for someone- - or something- - to hide in. There was no way for Robin to prepare himself for... whatever it was that was going to come and happen...

No, thought the Teen Wonder. I'm not just some 'wonder'ful acrobat who can unshape words 'wonder'fully. If I was, Batman would not have chosen me as his protege. Now all Robin had to do was be sure and not prove the Boss wro- -

The following events happened so fast, and were so incredibly terrifying, they were even muddled to the Teen Wonder. Robin and Batman were stepping forward still, Grayson lost in his thought, when suddenly they discovered the reason for the sped-up sewer water: 2 auxiliary tunnels feeding into the main one, the one Robin and Batman had been in. The sudden addition of gushing, compacted, surprising water had left the Duo Dynamica unbalanced and finding their bearings. That, coupled with the gut wrenching, horrible, reverberating roar that came from the auxiliary to Robins right, sent him to his knees, his light stick splashing into the sewer water rapids.

Fairly quickly after that, Robin's senses came back to him. He didn't even try to muck about in the rapids after his light stick; no doubts about it, his light stick was lost. But the small, dirty light from Batman's... well, Robin would have said (if he could have found his voice) that it was too much light: the thing that came into view from the starboard auxiliary was too absatively-posilutey horrendous for words. But I shall try.

You could tell it had once been human, almost. It was covered with scales that seemed too hard and sharp and heavy to exist on a human being; but then again, this Killer Croc wasn't exactly "human". Its tail hung limply, painfully, falling behind the Croc as if it had been horribly dislocated and had never quite healed right, which was very likely. Its snout seemed as if it had been stuck on by some third grader with a too-vivid imagination; there were no lips around the razor sharp teeth, but if there were, they would have covered and caked with dried blood. The ligaments were completely mutated; one arm was bulbous and huge, one leg was shriveled and small, etc. Instead of nails the creature had dirty black claws. And all of him that was visible (except for those few parts that were bloodstained) , scale or otherwise, was as green as the water he was currently running through (in Robins general direction. He probably couldn't see Batman, melted into the shadows, waiting; he probably couldn't see very well in fact.)

All of this Robin had to take in in the amount of time that two frames in stop-motion occupied. And it terrified him. But he had a job to do. And he was going to do it well; Batman was counting on him.

His job: keep Killer Croc distracted so Batman could do his Batman thing. Distraction...? How do you distract a nine- foot- tall sewer monster?

"You mock him," was the answer Grayson came with. Easy, thought he. Autopilot to the third-power!

Doing a back flip up off the ground while cupping his hands around his mouth and bending his head up at the monster, he shouted, "Hey, yo'momma was'a sa'mander! Yo'justa witto'bitty gecko! Do'ya got'gieko?! I'don' think'so! Cuz'y'ur justa witto'bittygeh-cko! Hahah-ha!"

He had the Croc's attention.

It was not good attention. Not AT ALL. Period.

As the Creature From the Black Sewer charged, Batman did his thing. Never even coming out of the shadows, he jumped, flicked his wrists. The two Bat-a-rangs lodged into chinks in Killer Crocs scale-armor, sending a ka-jillion- or- so volts right into his soaked system.

Killer Croc roared in rage, in pain, in madness. And while his mouth was screaming open, Robin kick-started phase three. Rebounding off the wall he been gliding towards, he did an upside down aero-cartwheel, taking out pellets full of knockout gas from his utility belt, flipping his wrists, and throwing the pellets into Crocs mouth. The pellets popped the gas into the KCs snout . . .

...only to be blown out by the wind coming from the Crocs mouth. "OooOoh, crap," muttered Robin, who was looking the monster square in the eyes, or rather, in the snout. He wasvery, very, very angry now, and Robin was the first living thing he saw. There was less than a yard between prey and predator, the predator could bite off half of the preys arm in one, swift, painful motion. And then, open jawed, Croc charged Robin.

Screaming, Robin surged backwards through the sewer water, away from the monster looking for a new kill. Into the depths of his utility belt went his left hand, and out it brought two of whatever-it-was that was in the first capsule his hand landed on.

Fortunately, it was eggs-actly what Robin needed: Two circular Robin-rangs with an empty space in the center that he put his hands in like boxing gloves.

The Teen Wonder had just enough time to accidentally throw out his left arm in a reflex as Killer Croc bit down at him. When Grayson opened his eyes (he didn't even realize he had closed them) he noticed that, again, he was blessed; Croc had bit down on the sides where there were the hard steel blades were. Well, fancy that, thought Robin. Apparently my Robin-rangs are hard enough to stop the bite of a raging mutant crocodile monster. Huzzah!

Just to test his luck, he tried squeezing the 'rang, immediately after pulling his hand out quick as lightning, as the Boss had taught him. Sure enough, he had grabbed crystallizing-ice-pellet-a-rangs, which meant that ice pellets flew and burst all throughout Crocs mouth. These, though, were not the kind ice-pellets that made ice out of liquid or gas that would just blow out of Crocs mouth; these were the kind that just crystallized as soon as they hit fresh air. Or, in this case, sewer air.

There were so many crystallizing ice pellets that Crocs entire head, which was considerably large considering the snout and all-around mutations, was eventually completely covered in ice crystals. It took just less than three seconds for Killer Croc to suffocate to unconsciousness, and fall to the floor of the squat sewer tunnel. Upon impact with solid ground, the ice encasing the Crocs head crashed apart and floated downstream.

For a few moments, all Grayson could do was stand there, in the sewer, and stare, wide-eyed, at the creature laying there in front of him. Robin's breathing was uneven, short, ragged.

But then he realized the extent of what he had just accomplished. He felt like a squire who has pat the tests and become a knight. I've slain my first dragon, thought the red and green clad Robin, I've done it with zero bloodshed and I barely needed any help at all. Then Robin realized something. Once Batman had done his part, he has just stood there, in the shadows. Even when everything went bad, he had offered no help. It wasn't, "You try and fail on your own. If you are about to get killed, I'll go in and help," it was "survive or die."

Robin wasn't sure how he felt about that, or how it would affect their partnership, but he did know he had a mess to clean up. So from his utility belt he brought out a length of thin steel intertwined twine he would use as makeshift hand-cuffs for the unconscious Killer Croc.

As Robin bent down to start tying the twine around Croc's hands, the beasts eyes angrily fluttered open. Roaring, the creature threw his open maw straight up at Robin, who, because of Croc's drowsiness, was able to bound away. Grayson spied Batman still watching whether or not he would survive, and realized he would have to figure something out to save his tuckus.

The Teen Wonder then got a wonderful idea. "Up and over!" he shouted to Batman, hoping he understood.

Robin took the taught twine and jumped up to meet Croc. At the last moment he tucked his head, closed his eyes, shoved his arms, as open as could be, holding the twine down, and flipped. He only hoped Batman would come through.

He did. Right as the twine caught on Croc's neck and pulled him somewhat into the air, Batman was right where he was needed. Quick as a bat flapping his wings.

Batman found his way underneath Croc, kicked straight up, sending the murderer flying into the wall of the sewer.

Robin pumped his fist, still holding onto the crystallizing-ice-pellet-a-rang, into the air. "Tee-Kay-Oooooh!" shouted he.

"Don't get too cocky yet,"came the gruff voice of the Night's Demon.

Robin almost asked what he meant, but he already had his answer. He turned his face and started clean up. Even so, a familiar sound snapped him from his sulk. The sound was the sound of rushing water. Batman had kicked Croc so hard he'd ruptured the pipes in the wall. So many, in fact, that the water coming surging out was so much that pushed the entire crowd out of the sewer tunnel and into what seemed to be a gigantic sink, a great collection chamber.

It was at least thirty yards tall, at least fifty in circumference. There were about a dozen tunnels emptying out into the huge chamber filling it about a third of the way with water. There was a great big hole at the bottom where all the water emptied into.

Robin squeezed the 'rang and threw it up. The grape-sized pellets actually froze blocks of water, big enough to be used as stepping stones.

Nice, thought Robin. He and Batman jumped from block to block, eventually getting far enough up that they could fire their grappling-hooks without too much interference from the water.

At the end of this predicament, the Dynamic Duo found themselves hanging from their grapples on the top of some sort of collective sewer with nothing to show for it, not even a souvenir. And something else they did not have was Croc. From the ripples and bubbles in the sewery soup Robin came to the obvious and slightly saddening conclusion: Killer Croc got away.

Batman said nothing, only pressed a button on his utility belt.

"What, no congratulations?" Robin asked, a little frustrated, a little angry. " A simple Nice job kid, you didn't die would suffice."

"Why should I congratulate you when the mission was a failure? I was counting on you and you failed. You let the raging sewer monster get lost in the water and fall into the emptying pipe. This was a test and you failed," growled Batman.

"Hey! How was I supposed to do anything if you were just brooding in the sha- -"

Batman gave Robin the kind of look that said "Shut. Up. Or. Die." Robin shut up. He was to young to die.

So, what? thought Robin. Is Batman blaming me? Or . . . Bats had said it was a test. So was it fake? Obviously . . . Even with all those self-made assurances, Robin was unsure. Could it have been real? Robin looked over at Batman, but got nothing from that blank white stare.

Then, from the sewer tunnel in front of them, came the awesome-looking Hydro-Jet. The two swung over to it, got in their different positions in the cockpit. Batman started piloting it somewhere they had not been before. He pressed a button and a compartment in front of Robin opened. Shades, a leather jacket, jeans, tennis shoes- what he would normally were in public.

"Boss, what's this for and where are we going?" Grayson asked as he began changing.

"We're picking someone up," came the enigmatic reply from the Batman.