***Chapter Six: Closer to You***
A/N: I really should have mentioned this before but my story predates Officer Cash losing his hand as well as the pacification collar Croc wears. As always, thank you for all your wonderful reviews and I hope you enjoy the updated installation! J
I can tell Cash is pissed as he leads me down the elevators.
"What the hell were you thinking? He could've killed you just now and you rush like an idiot to get back within his striking range!" Even while he's angry, I watch as he pulls a cloth from one of his pockets, offering it to me. "Here, you're lip is bleeding."
I humbly take the proffered cloth, putting it to my mouth to find his claim true as I withdraw with blood. My heart is beating a riotous rhythm in my chest, my body still singing with excitement, and a strange liquid heat coils in the pit of my stomach. I really want to see Waylon again. I have so many questions, like how'd he find out my last name and what it meant to him. And what did he mean calling me his 'bride'? With all the guards nearby that heard him, it would only concrete their previous theory that I had a run-in with Waylon last night.
"Why in the hell did Killer Croc kiss you anyway? Man, woman, or child; Croc has never hesitated to go in for the kill."
"I-I don't know…" But even as cruel as I know he's capable of being, Waylon never intentionally brought harm to me. "I'm sorry, Cash… I don't know what came over me."
There's a long stretch of silence between us; I'm sure Cash is fuming mad. But I still can't help pressing the issue. "So Killer Croc kills women too?"
"Goddammit, Riolu! Are you seriously asking me this? He's a cold-blooded monster! He's torn entire families apart limb-from-limb and has never shown regret for his past transgressions! Don't go anywhere near him, Riolu! Everyone who tries to get close to him gets killed!"
Another long, awkward silence stretches between us, the very air seeming oppressive. The rest of our walk back to the Holding Cells is quiet but pregnant with a tension that could not be denied. Cash's fear exudes from him like a thick musk, all the while, my thoughts are running rampant, wild with thoughts of Waylon and his cryptic last words to me…
"We need to talk when I get back... Falcone… You're mine now, brat. Nothing's gonna stop me from taking you as my bride… I've got your scent… You'll be mine, Riolu... I promise."
The back of my neck and ears tingle with fear, excitement, and more than a little pain… Fuuuuck, I'm still so sore! I want to try for Waylon but even when he's gentle, he leaves my body in such distress that I find myself second guessing my foolish decisions thus far.
I forget sometimes after years spent here as an adopted child under the guardianship of Arkham that other patients here were convicted felons. And Killer Croc AKA Waylon Jones AKA my possible love interest tops the list as far as dangerous criminals goes. For fuck's sake, he's rumored to eat people!
That's actually something I need to ask him about… Then again, what would I say to him if he said 'yes'?
He was known to eat people who lost their way in the sewers of Arkham according to other inmates, the proof of it being the bones littering one of his former cages at the Medical Facility.
But if he ate people, what made me so different from his dietary supplement of human flesh that he would choose me as his 'bride'? Probably the fact that I'm as much of a freak show as he is. But if that's the basis for our coupling, I feel that's a tad shallow of him. Then again, our relationship can be summed up thus far as a meaningless physical encounter followed by medical procedures.
Regardless, I'm not sure I really want something more meaningful with someone as dangerous as him… And even if I did, I doubt he would return the feeling in truth. He's less than human but he's more than the monster that everyone else sees him to be… Somewhere in that grey space between beast and man, he covets me as a prize. But for how long before one force (say for instance, the beast) dominated the other and I find myself the victim of circumstance (example: eaten)?
I'm taken from these thoughts as Cash and I finally arrive in the holding cells. I take a quick cursory glance around room; Riddler is openly gawking at me, a secret knowledge seeming to gleam in his eyes. I see quite a few new faces sitting in the security offices up high, a few of them obvious medical staff members.
"So, Cash… Are we still on for tomorrow at the gardens?" I can't help asking.
He blips my cell security door open, gesturing for me to enter. "I'll have to put it past the doctors, but I'll see what I can do…"
I walk into my cell and immediately head for the bed, crawling into a ball to fit more of my body onto the small mattress. I hear the slide of Cash's security card before the hum of the electric security door buzzes its way into my ears, heading for my headache.
All I want is to go to sleep and dream this whole ordeal away… I still don't know how I should feel about my deadly encounters with Waylon, made all the deadlier by unsatisfied passions. How am I supposed to go about my regular routine now after having my whole world turned upside-down so completely?
I pull my pillow over my head, hiding my shameful tears. I have never felt so at war; my mind's conscience cry for order and my body's call to slake the kindling has my mind going through a constant cycle of questions and criticisms.
What's a girl like me to do? I might never again be looked at favorably by any one else…
I can't stop the flow of tears as my self-esteem deflates to an all-time low… I remember crying myself to sleep, thoughts of Waylon and possibilities; pesky doctors and frightening medical equipment; pain and passion leaving me a sobbing fool.
Killer Croc didn't want to wait much longer to finish claiming his bride: Riolu Falcone. How did that information slip past him? He still had an unsettled debt with the Falcone family… Riolu must have been clever enough to keep that a secret, distracting him with half-truths and alarming strength. The girl might not even realize the secret strength she held, the kicks and punches she delivered leaving lingering bruises. And speaking of bruises…
He looks down to his arm, looking at the small gash left by the slamming gate coming down between Riolu and himself. He had bled pretty badly at first but once he managed to stop the bleeding, he had begun healing at an accelerated rate. He never understood why he healed so quickly, this ability not found in the few others who have shared his same disease.
Despite what most people thought, Croc had been a human once but after a life of cruel trials, continual abuse from his peers, and the constant stream of animosity that seemed to follow after him; Waylon grew cold-blooded and indifferent to the wasteful sacks of flesh known as humans.
But for Riolu, he had to at least try and act more like a… human. He wanted to cringe. Nevertheless, he tried to think of things he could do to make his home in the sewers more hospitable for her… She had brought up a few points for why she couldn't live with him, and much as it irked him, he knew she was right.
If he was to woo his young bride, he would have to secure her comfort and needs first. As a member of the Falcone, she was probably accustomed to a higher standard of living than most inmates; a spoiled brat and he wanted to bring her down to the sewers to live with him. A man could hope… but a beast like him could never be certain. He sighs as he makes his way to a hallway of rooms long abandoned by humanity. For the most part, the rooms are still intact, pipes still running water albeit cold, and it was deep enough into the caverns that one such as Riolu would become lost were she to venture too far.
He was pretty sure there were some old mattresses somewhere else on this floor as well as some couches and medical equipment. With this in mind, he begins his search of all the requirements for his bride's living area.
Time was of the essence and if he couldn't have her soon; he feared he may lose his only opportunity to be with a woman in truth…