Chapter 28
Waylon curled up on the floor of warehouse nine, clutching at his body that felt like it was burning from the inside out. His head was spinning and he couldn't stay conscious, yet no matter how long he was out for he always woke up even more drained and disorientated. It had been like this for the last week, ever since he escaped Arkham. The likely cause was the infection caused from ripping his hands off as well as the bullets that had made it into his skin. His hands had grown back of course and the skin had healed over the bullets before he'd had the chance to pull them out, and now he was sick because of it. He groaned as he curled up into a tighter ball and forced his eyes open in the dingy light. It was sunset and the orangey light lit up the warehouse with a toxic glow and revealed its state of disrepair.
The couch was infested with a family of rats that had chewed their way into the fabric, and the food left in the fridge from that night three years ago had become an entirely new organism all together. The floor was lined with a thick layer of dust and the pile of junk had collapsed in on itself, some of the items smashing into pieces and littering the floor. There had been a junkie living in the warehouse at one point in time with a small collection of used needles scattered about making Waylon's disorientated state even more dangerous. The table was smashed into pieces from his return when he'd fallen onto it, and now he lay curled up surrounded by splintered wood.
The worst sight in the warehouse however, was one of the only things still intact. A small collection of Madeline's clothes hung over the back of the couch that the mice hadn't gotten to get. She'd left some in the warehouse so she had a change of clothes when time got away from them, that way she didn't have to catch a taxi in three day old clothes. Waylon reached out to the clothes but they were far too far away. He managed to push himself up onto his knees and crawl over to the couch and reach out to them, grasping the fabric in his claws. It was still so soft despite being abandoned for three years, and Waylon clutched it tightly. He slowly slid back onto the floor and curled up again, holding the fabric of the shirt to his chest and forcing his brain to imagine it was Madeline.
And as he clutched that shirt and imagined Madeline's warm body in his arms, the fresh scent of her hair for him to inhale and the elegant curves of her body to caress, he felt his eyes begin to swell with tears. He shut his tight which only managed to force more tears to bubble at the surface. He didn't cry. Crying was not something he ever did or ever wanted to do. It was weak and pathetic, the stuff for regular humans and certainly not something a man, let alone a giant mutant crocodile monster, should ever do. Yet, despite the fact he was adamant that he did not cry and could not cry, as he slowly slipped out of consciousness once more he felt a tear slip from his grasp and slide down his scaly cheek.
Madeline examined herself in the mirror, carefully checking that everything was where it should be and that there was no unnecessary bumps showing. She was wearing an off the shoulder black top and a pair of skinny ripped jeans with black snake skin boots. The top and jeans, despite being fairly simple looking, cost an arm and a leg to buy in the shops but thankfully, there were many perks to being a model for the company that sold them. For the last two years Madeline had been working for a modelling company that mainly did high end fashion and formal attire, the kind of things only the rich and famous would wear. She had initially gone to work for the Wayne run modelling agency however, once Batman was revealed to be Bruce Wayne, or was it the other way around, the project was quickly terminated and the models snatched up by other agencies. Madeline was quite thankful she didn't have to model lingerie, several years of working as a stripper had made her quite tired of putting on and taking off underwear. Besides, she didn't like the prospect of men doing things while looking at a picture of her, not anymore, not since...
Madeline glanced down at her hotel dressing table, the emerald pendant sitting neatly in the centre next to the matching earrings. She wore them every day, and only took them off when she showered or had to model something. As she fastened the silver chain around her neck and the cool metal settled in a familiar place on her collar bone, she took a deep, quivering breath in.
"Waylon." She whispered like a prayer, his name causing so many emotions to fill her mind. She missed him terribly and wanted nothing more than to be in his big, strong arms again, to feel his lips on hers and be caressed by his clawed hands. But she also felt very angry towards him for pushing her away in the way he did. She knew what he was doing and she knew that he hadn't meant a word of what he'd said but she still hated him for doing that to her. Sure he thought he was doing the right thing by pushing her away for her own safety and happiness, but she hated that noble white knight bullshit, she just wanted her big dumb crocodile back.
With a quick glance at the mirror to ensure her makeup was right she grabbed her coat and headed out of her room and to the elevator. The generic elevator music played and Madeline tapped her foot impatiently as it made its decent. Sure, since Waylon had pushed her away her career had flourished. She'd moved into a really nice apartment in Metropolis, she had a thriving career as a model, and every guy she met out in the clubs promised her the world in an attempt to get her number. But it all meant nothing when she was alone and the one person she loved more than anything was so far away, locked up behind bars and tortured on a daily basis. Then a smile managed to find its way onto her face and she couldn't help but giggle. He wasn't behind bars anymore however, he was free for the first time in three years and that was the reason she had come back to Gotham.
The news stations had been all over it with police statements, investigations of Arkham Asylum's security systems, conspiracy theories and the general mass panic of how they were going to get the giant cannibalistic crocodile man back into custody without Batman? When Madeline saw the 'Breaking News' report about the escape she hadn't believed her ears. Then, when the initial shock had subsided, she leaped for joy and booked the first plane back to Gotham. It had been pretty booked up so she'd only managed to get a flight a few days later and it had cost her an arm and a leg. It was only when she'd sat down on the plane that she'd realised exactly what she was doing. That she was going to see the man who had pushed her away by calling her all manner of things. The man who had terrified her half to death and killed countless people in front of her in a murderous, drug induced rampage. The man she loved but hadn't seen in three years. It was this realisation that had caused her hesitation to go and see him, and she'd stayed in the hotel for a good two days.
The elevator landed with a bing and the doors slid open. Scooting past the people with suitcases trying to get on she made her away through the foyer and too the revolving doors. It was a reasonably priced hotel that thought the more gold interior they used the more they could make it seem fancy. Sadly the number of middle aged tourists walking around gave it away and made the gold decor rather redundant. Madeline had only chosen this hotel because it was the closest one to the docks.
"Heading out somewhere nice?" The bellboy asked as Madeline past him.
"Oh..." Madeline said, a little surprised by the sudden communication. "Err, yeah..." She picked up the pace and exited the hotel before the bellboy could become even more confused and hailed a taxi outside.
"Where too?" He asked, leaning over the back of the seat. "The clubs?"
"West side docks." Madeline said flatly, checking her handbag for some neurophen to treat her anxiety induced headache. She was becoming very anxious about seeing Waylon again, more so than she'd expected she could be. He might be a totally different person to the man she knew three years ago. Three years in Arkham might have turned him into even more of a dangerous creature. He had said that it got worse each time he went into Arkham, what if Waylon Jones was gone completely? What if Killer Croc was the one waiting for her at the docks, ready to attack and kill the one link back to his humanity, the weakness, the liability.
The ride was a long one but the sun set rather quickly, turning Gotham into the dark and dangerous place that it was. Since Batman's departure, all news reports stated that Gotham had become quite the horrible place once more. Crime was on the up and corruption even higher. As they travelled further into the west side, it became more apparent that without Batman, Gotham was doomed. The only solace that anyone could find in Gotham's new state of affairs was that Batman had locked up all the super criminals before getting blown up in Wayne Manor, and it was only the petty thugs that roamed the streets. Accept it wasn't just the petty criminals anymore, if Waylon had escaped, perhaps it was only a matter of time before the other super criminals like Penguin, Twoface, Riddler and maybe even Scarecrow escaped as well, and who would stop them?
Madeline almost didn't notice that they'd pulled up at the docks and that the taxi driver was looking at her for his payment, the meter displaying the outrageous price.
"$100?" Madeline gasped, glaring at the taxi driver who just shrugged his shoulders.
"It's late and it's a bad part of town." He explained blankly, but he just sounded like he was greedy. Regardless, Madeline paid him and slammed the taxi door shut once she got out. The taxi driver didn't leave straight away, so he watched with curiosity as Madeline clambered over the chain link fence.
"Err Miss? What are you doing?" The taxi driver asked through the car window.
"Visiting someone." Madeline answered plainly, swinging her legs over the fence and landing on the other side, staggering as she landed.
"But who? Usually its criminals and the like around here." The taxi driver warned but Madeline just gave him a wave and turned to find warehouse nine. The taxi driver quickly lost interest and drove away as Madeline walked along the water's edge to find the warehouse.
A wave of nostalgia hit her and for a moment she felt like the past three years hadn't happened at all, that it had all been some bad dream and it was just any normal evening with her on her way to see Waylon and have some fun. She desperately wished that was the case but with each step closer to the warehouse, the stronger the feeling of anxious dread in her stomach became and the more her limbs tried to turn to stone. She hovered outside the door to the warehouse, hesitant to open the door and go inside. Was Waylon even inside? What was to say he didn't go somewhere else after he escaped. Perhaps he was somewhere deep in the sewers or maybe he had found another place to hide like an abandoned lighthouse or something. There was of course the chance that Madeline had gotten it all wrong of course and that he really had meant what he'd said to her three years ago, that he didn't anything to do with her.
She shook her head and smiled at her own insecurity. No, that wasn't the case. She knew him to well. He did love her. It was because he loved her that he pushed her away, and it was because she loved him that she let him. As much as she wanted to stay she knew it would eat him up inside to see her ever week but not be able to do anything, to not be able to hold her or kiss her, to have her. It would hurt her as well but she wasn't bothered about being hurt, she'd gladly take all the pain in the world if it meant that Waylon would be okay.
She twisted the knob on the door and pushed the unlocked down open, stepping into the gloom of the warehouse. It was dark, dingy and smelt foul from rotting food. Madeline struggled to see into the gloom, hardly able to make out any shapes other than the couch and coffee table. Then she realised that it wasn't the coffee table she could see the outline of, but something else on the floor. It was breathing heavily, laboured breaths lined with growls, certainly a familiar but worrying sound. She cautiously etched closer, being careful to stay quiet encase it was something dangerous, but then she peeked over the couch and recognised the shape instantly. The large frame, the muscular torso, the ridges across the back. She was about to go to him but then noticed that it couldn't possibly be Waylon, it had to be something else. The creature, whatever it was, had a different body shape. It had a larger torso and shorter legs, rather top heavy. It also had a large tail lying limp next to it that couldn't possibly be Waylon's, how could a skin condition cause a tail to grow.
Madeline took out her phone and very quietly switched the torch light on, covering it with her hand so not to startle whatever or whoever was there. She very cautiously opened her fingers to let a bit of the light through and aimed it low so not to get it in his eyes. She slowly scanned the light over the body and the greenish scales, the more pronounced ridges and spikes along his back like blades. His back was even more hunched and his shoulders broader, the kind of frame that suited being on all fours rather than upright. The creatures body was curled up as tightly as it could go, lying on its side and clutching at its stomach as if in great pain. As Madeline cautiously cast the light over the creature's face her heart caught in her throat. The familiar shape of Waylon's jaw line and the shape of his eyes were present on this creatures face as well as the same mouth and teeth curled into a snarl of agony. This was Waylon, this was her Waylon. What had they done to him?
"Oh my god!" Madeline gasped, dropping to her knees and cupping Waylon's face in her hand, he was very warm. He was slipping in and out of consciousness, trying to move his body when he felt Madeline's arms around him but he could do little more than groan in agony. Madeline lifted Waylon's head and forced his eyes open, shining the light in them in a vain attempt to do a neural assessment but Waylon's eyes didn't dilate, they stayed glazed over and didn't seem to process anything. He groaned and moved his arm, brushing it against Madeline's leg and the he tried to push himself up.
"No no no, don't try to get up. You look sick." Madeline insisted, lightly putting her hands on Waylon's shoulders to stop him, and surprisingly that was enough to keep him grounded.
"Madeline?" Waylon asked weakly, sounding very confused. He sounded awful as well, and his voice was even more gravely than before but at least he was talking.
"What happened to you? Why are you like this?" Madeline asked, examining Waylon for wounds. He appeared to have several scabbed over wounds in his back that didn't look like they'd been kept very clean. Perhaps his wounds had gone septic, that would explain why he looked so weak and why he felt hot to the touch. What made matters worse was the fact that his skin made it impossible for him to sweat so he was stuck panting to cool down like a dog.
"I need to get you some antibiotics or something. Don't suppose you have any?" Madeline asked but Waylon just grunted something that vaguely sounded like a 'no'. Madeline racked her brain for a solution, it wasn't like you could just go out and buy antibiotics without a prescription, and she certainly didn't have the knowhow to steal some from a pharmacy. She did however, remember that her old boss at the strip club used to be quite the painkiller addict and had an assortment of drugs in his office, if he was still there after three years.
"I'm going to get you something to help with the infection." Madeline explained and quickly got to her feet, but Waylon reached out and grabbed her leg, making her jump.
"Don't go." He begged, his eyes at half mast and looking at her, bloodshot and glazed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean the things I said to you. I don't want you to go, please stay with me!" He sounded like he was slightly out of it and wasn't quite sure what was going on but Madeline felt a sting in her chest at the sound of his pleading words. He almost sounded like he was going to cry.
"I'll be back babe, I promise." Madeline said, kneeling down again to kiss Waylon on the forehead. "Just try to hold on a bit longer."
Waylon opened his eyes in the gloom and felt all the life drain from his body when he saw that he was alone. A dream, a mirage, a fantasy come to life to sooth a dying monster, or something poetic like that. He rolled onto his back and looked up at the gloomy ceiling of the warehouse, the whole room spinning. He honestly felt like he was going to die then and there all alone in the dark. Madeline hadn't really been there, she'd just been a hallucination he'd concocted to make him feel better. Of course she hadn't been there, why would she see him now, after all this time. He'd shoved her away, there was no way she'd come and see him wounded and dying in the warehouse, let alone go to get him antibiotics.
He groaned as he felt his stomach churn and try to expel everything bad in his body. He wretched but he hadn't eaten in days so there was nothing to throw up. He wanted to claw at his head to relieve the pressure building behind his eyes and he wanted tear off his skin to let some of the heat escape his body since panting wasn't enough. He wanted to lie in a tub of ice, no, a whole see of ice and cool down. He just wanted it to end. He just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up.
Then there was a glow from out of the corner of his eye, a light coming closer. Was this it? Was this the end for him? Was this some angelic being come to take him to the afterlife. It was funny that it was an angel, he always thought he'd be dragged down to hell if such a place existed. He shut his eyes and awaited the end to lift him from his body and all the agony to subside into nothingness, but instead he felt his head being jerked up and some pills being shoved into his mouth.
"Roll over." Madeline ordered, pushing Waylon as hard as she could onto his stomach so she could force some water down his throat along with the antibiotics. She had only scavenged a few from the club since they had a new manager and he was less than happy to see a stranger snooping around his office. Madeline had been resourceful however, and gone with an old treatment for septic wounds. After stroking Waylon's neck to make him swallow she moved around to his back and straddled his waist. With a knife she'd bought from a kitchen wear shop in a late night shopping centre she cleaved off the scabs, not even rousing a growl of protest from Waylon who seemed to disorientated to know what was happening. The skin was tough to cut through but she had to get to the exposed wounds before they healed over completely. She pulled off the lid of the big bottle of vinegar she'd bought and poured it into the wound. This caused Waylon to flinch but Madeline held on with her legs like a bull rider.
"Just bear with me okay, it'll clean it." She insisted, pouring some more on to wash away the grime. Then she grabbed the jar from a tackle shop and pulled out a small handful of writhing maggots, shoving them into the wound.
"Urgh, this is so gross." She grumbled, as the maggots writhed about in the flesh. She quickly ripped open the bag of gauzes she'd bought from the pharmacy and used an obscene amount of sticky tape to stick it onto Waylon's skin. Then she moved onto the next one and repeated the process until all the wounds were covered. Then she moved around the front again to see Waylon's face and he looked even more out of it than before.
"Come on sweetie, fight it." She begged, not entirely sure if Waylon was going to survive this. He looked exhausted and needed rest, but she didn't want him to go to sleep in case he didn't wake up again.
"I missed you." Waylon said meekly, reaching out and putting his hand on Madeline's thigh as she knelt in front of him.
"I missed you too." Madeline replied with a sad smile. "Been a long time huh?"
"I'm sorry I killed you..." Waylon muttered, sounding like he was about to faint. "...and I'm sorry about William, and..." His voice trailed off and his eyes shut as he fell unconscious once more, his head landing on Madeline lap leaving her very confused as to what on earth he was apologising for.
Credit to Dr. Keith Lowson for the alternative medical treatment for septic wounds, a much more creative method than force feeding Waylon antibiotics. As we know he has a great healing factor so he should be all good after a little nap. Poor Madeline is stuck with his head on her lap. So they are reunited once again, but how long will it last. Can they bare to be parted again, or will they cling on to each other for dear life. Find out in the next chapter.
Also please start deciding which Batman villain you'd like to see a fan fiction for next since I will not be making a sequel to this story (sorry Spiritfire). Maybe Scarecrow? Riddler? Please let me know what you'd like to see.
