Author's Note, IMPORTANT!: One-Shot! That is...Unless I get nice reviews AND people telling me they want me to continue it. Then it will turn into a story and maybe even a series.
The Beauty and the Beast.
Chapter 1: Uncharacteristic Decision.
The dark, dank, and polluted streets of Gotham City were home to the most notorious criminals. Including Killer Croc, who had just escaped the famous vigilante known as the Dark Knight, or to put it more simply, The Batman. Acidulous and animus in mood, Croc was now keeping out of sight in the shadowy alleyways of Downtown Gotham, ready to annihilate anyone in his path - that is, if he absolutely had to - because of his antipathy for basically everything, he had no remorse for his actions, but presently he wanted to abstain from being seen, let alone murdering someone and possibly leaving evidence to link him to that location. So for now, he'd have to endure his bloodlust and tolerate his never ending hunger until he was out of sight, preferably under the New Gotham Sewers. But being capricious, it was going to be difficult. Especially because of the annoying, and painful caustic sensation in his neck.
During the violent struggle at the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum, for the criminally insane, Guard Aaron Cash, whom Croc had a special enmity with, had activated his shock collar. The electricity that had pulsed through his body had caused him to fall into the water of the Old Gotham Sewer that was currently his cell - the said sewers being completely blocked off so he couldn't escape - and had damaged the collar, continuing to make it pulse and burn against his scales. It hadn't even stopped after he had crushed the remote under his large and heavy foot, smashing it into a million pieces. So it was no wonder why he was so churlish.
The only reason he had been able to escape off that retched island was because The Joker's "Oh so perfect plan" had been, well, debacle. But it had at least managed to distract the Bat long enough for him to get the hell out of there.
The detriment to the now wrecked asylum and island would take months to repair. And well, Croc was happy about that. Now even if he did get caught, the Bat would have no choice but to take him to Blackgate Prison. And that prison's security was no match for the giant, crocodile-man. He'd get out of there in less time then the flying rodent could blink an eye.
But that didn't mean he wanted to go.
So Croc, being discreet, ducked in and out of the dark alleyways and dumpsters, running across the slippery streets as the cold rain pelted his large green body.
A storm was coming, and soon. He'd have to hurry, especially since the rain made it harder for him to smell. And he'd need that sense if he were to make sure he wasn't being followed.
And knowing the Bat. There was a high possibility he was.
Though he was impervious to regular attacks, he knew Batman would take advantage of his current predicament, given that his collar was a major weakness. He'd have to find some way to get it off. Besides. He was sure there was a tracking device in it. And unfortunately, he knew it was inevitable to try to get it off using brute strength - he'd tried - So he'd need someone to get it off for him, but who?
No one could trust him. He knew that. He was misanthropic and too mercurial. But that was in his nature. He couldn't help it. Well, maybe he could. But he didn't want to.
He reached two points on which he could take. The short way, or the long way. Some would automatically pick the shorter path. But Croc knew better. The shorter way had more traffic and people. He'd be more likely to get caught. Yet the longer way had little to no people - being in a bad part of town - and had no traffic. If he chose the long way he'd be less likely to be seen.
So that's the path he chose, darting again behind a dumpster and into another hidden alleyway.
That's when he'd smelled it.
The tangy, yet sweet smelling aroma made him shiver. And Croc automatically went into hunting mode.
He crouched low to the ground, sniffed the air, then took a quick whiff of the grainy asphalt below, trying to distinguish where it was coming from. Finally deciding on going North, he crawled on all fours, belly barely touching the ground as he shuffled forward, yellow eyes squinting ahead, his pupils contracting into thin slits.
After several moments of just smelling the air, he finally heard a sound nearby. It started off as a moan but grew into loud cries of pain.
That would explain the blood he was smelling.
He smiled and growled, continuing towards the sounds. And as he got closer, he could see, just behind the corner of the next alleyway, almost completely concealed by the darkness, was a young and injured woman.
And damn was she injured.
The young blonde woman with bright yellow-green eyes whimpered as she held onto her leg, covered in blood and unable to move. She still hadn't noticed him yet, and was crying softly. Every now and then the young woman would blubber and wail, but it soon died down as she continued to lose more and more blood, becoming weak and tired, she eventually fell onto the hard ground, still alive and still conscious, but not for long.
Croc carefully moved forward with a loud growl causing the girl to gasp as she looked around to find the source of the sound, her eyes finally landing on his large and muscular form that was now appearing out of the shadows.
Yet she didn't scream.
The woman turned her body with a painful groan and a grunt so she could face him properly, then fell back onto the hard asphalt. After a minute of them both just staring at each other, she finally spoke, although her voice was weak and shaky. "H-Hi..."
Well that wasn't the reaction he was expecting.
He growled animalistically in response which also didn't cause the woman to scream or to run away in fear, much to his anger and confusion.
But before he could do anything, she spoke again, stopping between words to take in shuddery breaths. "I-I know who you are. And if you're going to eat me like the rest of your victims, I'm asking you to please kill me as painlessly as possible first, then I don't care what you do. You can eat me, tear me apart, I don't care just...I just don't want to feel anymore pain."
The look in her eyes was of pure hurt and sadness. And yet, even though she actually gave him permission to kill her, he didn't do it.
He found that he just couldn't bring himself to harm her.
So instead of viciously attacking the woman, or complying to her request, he got up, stomped over to her limp, and bleeding body and scooped her up into his arms.
He didn't know why he was doing this. He didn't know why the woman hadn't screamed or objected as he carried her.
All he knew was that she reminded him of himself.
The look she had in her eyes wasn't just being caused by the physical pain she was currently going through. Something had happened to her emotionally. Something serious. Something traumatizing.
That he could relate too.
On the other hand. He could just be entirely wrong on his assumption. But somehow, he could feel that he wasn't.
Besides. She hadn't screamed at the sight of him, nor had she insulted him in any way.
And that was a first.
So Killer Croc carried her cold and wet body, trying his best to shield her from the rain as he walked the long path to his awaiting home, silently cursing himself as he did so.