I just saw this movie and I really liked it. Here's a little one shot I wrote.
A monster. A freak. Ugly. Hideous. Disgusting. Killer Croc had been called many things. The first memory he had was the disgust on the faces of the people who should have cared for him. Loved him. Offered him safety and comfort. Instead they had made sure that he had always known how ashamed of him they were. How unwanted he was. There had never been any warm embraces, caring smiles, kind words or even indifference. No, there had been cruelty and abuse.
They had called him a monster, so eventually he had become one. Why not, he already looked like a monster. Who could ever care about someone like him? Perhaps he had secretly hoped that someone would be able to care about him, but he would never admit it. He didn't need anyone. Even now when he was surrounded by monsters, he didn't fit in. He emptied his glass and looked at the people sitting at the bar counter. They were supposed to be the worst of the worst and yet they all had something to fight for.
Deadshot had his daughter, someone who loved him unconditionally. Harley Quinn, as crazy as she seemed to be, had her "pudding". Someone who would do anything for her. Boomerang had his zest for life and (for some incomprehensible reason) his pink unicorn fetish. Even Diablo had his pain and his desperate hope for some kind of redemption. He has had a family who had loved him. That was much more than Killer Croc would ever have.
They were all ready to fight for the things that mattered to them, but why would Killer Croc fight? He had nothing or no-one to fight for, not now when Flag couldn't blow him up anymore. He was free to walk out and forget all of this; it was none of his problem. He didn't owe anything to anyone. What had anyone ever done for him?
Deadshot was going to follow Flag, for his daughter. To make her proud. Apparently the others were going as well. Were they some kind of heroes now? Hardly. They were monsters, but even a monster was capable of doing something good for every now and then. Killer Croc sighed and placed his glass on the table. Hell, why not. He would fight today and maybe someday he would find something worth fighting for.