Prompt: ( lego-joker ) AU where Cassandra wound up henching for a villain and *still* manages to adhere to her character and code?

A/N: It was honestly kinda hard to figure this one out believably but I'm fairly satisfied with what I came up with here, and I hope everyone else will be, too!

Batman and related properties © DC Comics
story © RenaRoo

Croc On Top

When she first came to the city, she was answering a call.

It was something deep in her soul, something that lit up the clouds of a blood red night. It was the sounds of endless screams and horrors which needed answering.

Lives that needed saving.

She answered the call, walked on bare feet across a great bridge to enter the island city. No one spoke to her, no one said much of anything – those who walked on the streets didn't see her.

But she saw them. All of them.

And that included the hungry woman with clothes worn even more thin that hers.

The woman was holding out her hands to the street, but her gaze was downcast, not willing to look at the people who passed her by.

This was something the girl had seen people do all over the world, while she ran away from her past and her sins. She recognized it as something of purpose. Something of need.

And, so, she answered the woman's need.

Coins and paper never made sense to the girl – she lived without them in the compound, and for the last five years had lived without them across the world. She only needed her skills to meet her needs.

Her needs, and the needs of the people she found.

Without batting an eye, she took food from a nearby cart – they were always so full of meats and foods without handing them out to other people. It never made any sense to the girl.

Then she put them in the begging woman's hand.

The woman looked up, and that was the first person who saw her in Gotham.

Waylon Jones never belonged anywhere. He had tried nearly everything everywhere, but the closest he ever got to belonging was in Gotham's streets.

Or, rather, under them.

After his failure to become one of the movers and shakers on the Gotham organized crime scene, he became what everyone who had ever seen him had feared he was – the monster lurking deep below.

But power – real power – wasn't in fear. It was in respect. And Waylon – Croc – knew that more than anyone.

He had always had fear on his side, but he very rarely had truly had respect.

Living under the Gotham streets, Croc found respect almost accidentally. When he began protecting a group of the homeless – the other forgotten and misplaced of the world.

Croc wasn't just respected, he was revered among them – and anyone who joined his community beneath the streets, away from the rejection of the world – earned his protection. And in return he gained a piece of anything they could get for themselves – occasional pocket change, clothes, food.

It was the sort of riches that others might have scoffed at, but in Croc's world they were power. And he got it not through fear, but through reverence.

It was nearly everything he always wanted. And he was expanding his ranks every day.

"Waylon!"

A few of the homeless who had become Croc's crew were his inner ring, his favorites. Both for their work and for their genuine acceptance from the start.

One of those was Aunt Marcy.

"What is it?" He asked, looking away from the construction of their new underground lair.

He was somewhat surprised to see a young girl at Aunt Marcy's side – wearing thin rags of clothes and looking not a bit afraid even as she came face to face with Croc.

Without a second thought, Croc gave credit to Aunt Marcy. Surely she had coached the girl because even the most trusted of his crew – like Spot – had an initial reaction of at least surprise from his appearance.

Not this girl. She was different.

"I don't think she has anywhere to go," Aunt Marcy explained, holding tightly onto the girl's shoulders. "She doesn't seem to know how to talk either. But she gave me a hot dog when she saw me hungry. I think she needs our help."

Croc hummed to himself, dropping down on one knee and looking the girl in the face.

She smiled at him.

"Then help's what she's gonna get," Croc announced, holding out his clawed hand. "You know how to shake?"

Without hesitation, she reached out for his hand, but rather than shake his hand, she grabbed him by the wrist and held it firmly. Her eyes shined happily.

Croc chuckled. "I'm gonna like you, I can already tell."

Aunt Marcy had made a point of finding someone she knew from the community who was deaf and introduced them to her. The girl was not deaf, but it was still a difficulty to communicate.

And they all were curious about how they could communicate best.

It was also Aunt Marcy who gave the girl her name so that each of them could call her by something.

"Cassie," was not the name, the name was Cassandra. But just like Croc answered to two names, Cassandra supposed she could, too. Especially since he seemed to like calling her Cassie.

"Cassie, come over here and help me with all this food I got," Croc called, and Cassandra gleefully came to his side.

She didn't understand everything he had said, but she enjoyed Coc's company, and pleasing hi. And she enjoyed the people down in the home they had built for themselves underground.

Rushing over to his side, Cassandra accepted the bags of food that dropped from Croc's shoulder and threw them over her own. They were heavy, but they weren't anything Croc wouldn't have been able to carry on his own.

Cassandra was fairly sure he just enjoyed her company.

"Between me and you, these people are gonna be safe for the first time in their lives, y'know that?" Croc asked. He looked over at her and gave a sharp toothed laugh. "'Course you don't. But that's okay. That's just fine. I've got ya anyway."

Humming in agreement with whatever Croc was saying, Cassandra helped him bring the food to the kitchen where every formerly homeless person's face lit up at the sight of it.

That was, until there was metallic ringing through the air.

No one else seemed to notice at first, but Cassandra's well trained ears recognized it for a sort of throwing star. And it was heading right for Croc's head.

Acting without hesitation, Cassandra leaped up and kicked away the object, sending it hurdling toward the nearby brick wall instead and embedding in it.

Everyone gasped and Croc dropped his sacks to turn around and inspect the object for himself.

Cass tilted her head and blinked curiously at it – it looked like… some sort of bat?

"He's here!" Croc roared, turning around toward the direction that the object was thrown from. "He's gonna try to take me back – I ain't going. I can't go! I'll die before I let him take me from my home!"

Cassandra followed Croc's gaze and saw for herself a dark man with pointy ears, and a bat on his chest not unlike the object he had thrown at Croc.

Eyes narrowed, Cass could see how upset Croc was by the very sight of him, how horrified everyone in their community was.

Without knowing the man, Cassandra did not like the man.

She put her hand out and grabbed Croc by the wrist, pulling him from whatever rage he was thrust into and forcing him to look at her instead. Cassandra then stepped between him and the dark man, getting into a readied stance and waving for him to come forward.

It had been a very long time since Cassandra had entered a full match, but her body was still very much a weapon.

"I do not know who you are, and I will not hurt you," the man said, stepping forward. "But I also will not let you stop me from making certain Killer Croc is returned where he belongs – in Arkham."

"NO!" Croc cried out, in anger and horror, leading to Spot and Aunt Marcy to run to his sides and grab him protectively.

Cassie did not need more convincing than that.

Without any sign to her opponent, Cassandra hurled herself forward. She ducked beneath him, knowing by the way he held himself that his center of gravity was lower than normal. He probably had something heavy – the cape or extra armor padding – up top to contribute to the shift.

In the time that it took the man to realize she was moving, she has barreled shoulder first into his unlocked knees, grabbed him by the boots and flung him backward toward the ground.

He was taken by surprise but not as much as Cassandra had wanted.

Tucking and rolling, he managed to quickly be back on his feet and hitting her with a familiar strike of his fist.

Cassandra deflected it, staring angrily into his blank eyes, anticipating the next hit without even reading his body.

The man seemed to recognize the moves as well. His eyes widened. "Cain? But…"

With that, Cassandra gave a strong kick to his chest and sent the man to the floor once more. That time he stayed down, more in surprise at the revelation than in pain.

Cassandra pointed to Croc. "Croc," she said with great difficulty. Then she thumbed her own chest. "Croc," she repeated. Then she pointed toward the exit. "Go."

"These people look out for us, Batman, they're good people," the other formerly homeless people said, gathering protectively around Croc.

Aunt Marcy stepped over to Cassandra and put gentle hands on her shoulders. "We don't mean to be breaking any rules or nothing. But we've got nowhere to go, and only each other to rely on. Same as Croc and our girl Cassandra."

"There are shelters–" he started to argue.

"Go," Cassandra repeated, still pointing toward the exit.

Aunt Marcy gently guided Cassandra's arm back down to her side.

"Shelters are not a home," she explained. "This is a home."

Getting up, the man looked from Cassandra to Croc and back. "I'll be returning. I have concerns here."

He left and Cassandra did not remove her steely gaze until he was long disappeared into the shadows. Which was why she only noticed Croc just before he lifted her up by the waist over his head and cheered happily along with the others.

"Hear that? Anyone messes with us, they mess with the Crocs!" he chuckled. "Me 'n Cassie. We're a team."

Cass smiled at her second name and looked down at Croc.

She was still learning many words. But she felt in her heart the one that Aunt Marcy had used.

Home.