Well thanks guys for reading this fic, but unfortunately I'm gonna have to start slowing down on adding new chapters as my updating catches up to how much I'm writing, which is less and less as I go further into the AU and try and keep personalities as close to how I want them, either as original as possible or like Croc, who is somewhat different but still holds most of his usual principles.

Anyway, read and review, because I appreciate reviews and/or constructive criticism.

Gotham City, Iceberg Lounge, 1900 hours, two weeks later

Lark sighed as she saw Jay and Raven lead some more guests to their seats in the Iceberg Lounge. Among them were quite a few gang lords asking for a private booth. She knew that they were going to have to comply anyway, or else they would be facing quite a few guns pointed their way.

With the loss of their boss the Penguin, as well as the majority of their security crew due to Batman apprehending them, they barely had enough guards to safely deal with their backdoor deals, let alone dealing with their "legitimate business" with the lounge and restaurant. If they could, she knew Jay, Raven, and herself could do the job, but then they would lose their appeal for being a waitress or hostess, because who wanted someone getting them food or seating them that could kick their ass, even if it wouldn't do jack squat against one man with a fast shooting hand? Besides, then the cops would be showing up at the lounge far more than they normally do, and even in their current state she knew seeing a patrol car coming by every half hour was far too much attention as it was.

Sighing again, she didn't notice the large individual walking up to the front desk until he cleared his throat.

Looking up, she saw a large man, hidden under his coat and hat, only seeing two yellow eyes looking down at her.

"Hello, did you make a reservation, sir?" the black-haired henchwoman inquired, fixing her bowler hat as she waited.

"No, ma'am." The figure replied. "Though I am here to inquire as to obtaining a possible job, if that would be possible, cher."

Cocking an eyebrow, Lark asked "I don't recall our boss or any of our employees leaving a job posting for us."

Lowering his head, the mysterious figure said "Ah, but I have noticed you seem to be lacking in…muscle."

Cocking his head at the private booths off to the side, he said "I know those boys over there aren't crawfish straight out of the pond, but I'm fairly certain they've been getting away with a bit too much since yer boss took a trip to the loony bin, am I right, donzelle?"

Looking at him strangely, she mulled it over for a bit. As right-hand woman to the Penguin, she had a fair amount of power to make some decisions, and judging from the brains this man had, she knew refusal would be …unwise.

"So what, you want be hired muscle here?" she questioned. "We don't exactly like to advertise that seeing as we try and look legitimate here."

"Oh, I recognize that. Just plop me anywhere you like, even if it's away from…prying eyes, and I can guarantee you I'll earn my pay here."

Thinking it over for a minute, she asked him "Fine, we'll be paying you by the hour then. When would you like to start?"

Looking at the private booths', he responded, "If you need me to teach some mobsters some manners, I wouldn't mind starting right now, mademoiselle."

Looking at the booth, she said with a small smile. "Well, one of Thorne's lieutenants decided not to pay the bill on his meal. He's the guy right there in the red suit, seems to do a lousy job packing a six-shooter under it. I'd be more than willing to pay extra to see him get the boot."

Finally showing some more of his face, she did her best not to recoil as she saw a wide set of rather sharp teeth show up in front of her.

"Very well."

The man then turned away and headed to the booth, looking somewhat out of place amongst the array of dresses, tuxedos, and expensive suits as his trench coat flowed a few inches off the ground.

The lieutenant barely raised his eyes to look at the man before a large, clawed hand grabbed him, tearing into his expensive suit before he was a few feet above his seat, his feet barely touching the soft leather of the booth.

Getting a face full of sharp teeth only inches away from his eyes, the man growled out "I heard ya forgot to pay the bill. Bad manners to forget to pay the tab."

One of the men on the other side of the booth got out and started to draw his gun behind the mystery man, but was knocking off his feet by a six foot tail, the appendage slamming into him twice as he lay on the ground before he lost consciousness.

Turning his face, he quietly but fiercely asked "Anyone else want to end up on the floor?" The other men in the booth stayed silent, unable to move as the guy in the air said "Fine, fine I'll pay the tab!"

Seeing him fumble out a wallet, Croc grabbed it and threw it on the table before saying "And the mademoiselle in charge said she doesn't want to see yer ugly mug again."

With a surge of inhuman strength the lieutenant found himself flying through the air, coming to rest on a table near the front entrance.

Looking up, dazed, he saw the reptile man walking over to him, and his fight or flight instincts came into gear, sending him scrambling for the front door.

Seeing the stir it had caused, Croc was happy that the hat and coat covered most of his bodice, though he knew the tail now hanging out from under the coat gave enough of an impression as he slid it back under, letting it wrap around his waist before heading back to the booth. Eying the lot of them, he said "Any of you forget to pay, you end up like le cochon out there, got it?"

All of them were silent and stared back at him, but all of them gave small, barely perceptible nods, before he turned around and headed back to the head waitress.

Before he had even gotten ten meters to her he heard her call out to her two partners "He's hired! And give him a raise!"

Hiding a toothy grin under the hat, he muttered to himself "Killer Croc is back in business."

A Few Hours Later

Smiling, Croc let his finger flick through the green cash in his hand, enjoying the smell of well-earned money in front of him. The head waitress, who introduced herself later as Lark, gave him a hundred bucks for kicking that cochon out of the lounge, which to him was like hitting the jackpot on the first go around.

Folding the bills and setting them inside one of his vest pockets, he kicked back on the bed that he was lying on, surprised at how good things were.

Lark decided to make a deal with him and start him off slow, having him work the weekend's both in the lounge and out in the backrooms, deciding to see if he would be competent for the job without fully committing him to it. In exchange, she was willing to provide him a room to sleep in and three meals a day for the weekends. If things went well, he may just get the room to himself for quite a while.

Of course he would certainly miss the sewers, it was his home for years, though if this was what he would be living in for his services, he certainly wouldn't refuse it.

Sighing he let his eyelids close, slowly drifting off into sleep on the soft sheet's as he dreamed of a new life, one free of being known as a murderer, a thief, a monster, a criminal; well, he knew he wouldn't be free of the last two for quite a while, but in time he may just be able to free himself from it. Just how though was something he would have to ponder for quite a while.