Hey there my readers! I'm back and finished the second semester and the finals for that. Now I am having my holiday until the end of new year so I hope this chapter is like a Christmas gift to you guys. I am sorry if I am slow at updating this chapter but I will never leave my favourite couples! Enjoy!

Prison is like school. Only difference here are there are no teachers, no desks or blackboards. Instead, the police armed with guns are harsher than any teacher who had whipped him before. In fact, he'd rather be whipped raw hide than clubbed like a seal in Canada. Or a shock collar to make him 'behave' as if he were an aggressive pitbull ready for a dogfight.

But a prison can be as much of a dogfight than you or I can imagine!

Day by day, night by night Waylon's service in prison increase as time goes by. He can't remember when he had not killed someone for provoking him. Yes, ever since he had arrived in Blackgate, the inmates found themselves a new game: Wake The Croc. The game involves an inmate, anything that's available for throwing and finally a larger inmate that is either deformed or crippled. Well, not crippled to be exact! How he hated it but he had no choice since they chained him arms and legs with shackles and a shock collar to prevent him from gnawing himself free.

Also, it prevented him from eating some...unfinished dinners.

Like any prisoner, Waylon will serve until his time is up. That's if he didn't play with the others like a rag doll! So his job in prison is the job any inmate dread to do: sewer cleaner. It involved collecting waste for fertiliser or to clear a path so that others in prison can excommunicate with nature. But somehow, he found the sewers to be useful for him. He would spent hours swimming in the murky waters, until one of the guards relieve him for the night. If he had a tail, he would use it as a rudder whenever he makes a turn in the water or crush an inmate if they provoke him again. While swimming, he would sometimes playback some memories in his mind. The good ones made him feel at peace. The time he made the bullies paid, the time he had not been abused, the time...

" Kayla," he whispered that name like it was from the Vahalla of heaven. She's the only light in the darkness and the beacon of hope. He vowed that his love for her will never die even if he is caged.

" And who is this 'Kayla' dame are you mooning about?" a voice broke him from his trance. He was back in his cell, the opposite of the inmate who did not judge him too critically. Cobblepot watched him behind the bars with an amusing yet curious expression in his eyes. It was rare. For Waylon was used to his posh attitude and his rant about working for some crime bosses, only to get what he wants and to build a bar from what he heard!

" A friend," he told him briskly. He didn't want to open up because they rarely spoke because of the tasks they were assigned and by the end of the day, the both of them were too tired to talk. But Cobblepot eyed him carefully, giving him a suspicious look. " Jones," he sighs. " Just because I have more experience in this hell hole, doesn't mean I am ignorant to know what love is!"

He grunted. " So what if I'm in love?"

" Aren't you afraid that she might moved on?" the stumpy midget asked. " How long are you going to hope that she'll wait for you? Ten years of servitude is quite a time for a dove to mate."

He almost rammed his head against the wall behind him. " Mate?" He spoke the word as if it were an ancient language to him.

Cobblepot leaned against the bars of his cell, facing him. " If you are so in love with her and perhaps even kissed her, do you ever imagined what it would be like if she were under you as you mount her?"

He decided to ignore Cobblepot's questions, thinking about what he mentioned earlier. Imagined what it would be like if she were under you. Those lines echoed in his mind as the night went on. He could barely sleep. He faced away from the bars, feeling what Kayla would have done with him if he hadn't...

" Forget it!" he growled. " I would never imagine myself on top of her." With that, he settled in for the night on the ground.

One particular day, however, there is hope. While he was performing his sewer duties, a looming figure was watching him. He looked straight at the figure, growling as a warning. However, the figure didn't flinch or run. He stood perfectly still. " What the hell do you want," Waylon demanded gruffly.

" How would you like to get out?" the figure asked smoothly.

The crocodile man wouldn't buy it. " What's there to do when I get out?"

" I can offer you a job," the figure answered. " A fine job with a stable salary. You can rent a house or two if you take up the offer. Our job requires a man with some strength and a backbone. You, are the man for the job! Plus, we travel all over the place."

Travelling? That's the thing he needs to find Kayla. Without thinking, he nodded. " I accept the offer. When will we leave?"

...

" You're leaving?" Cobblepot asked him in a whisper. It was night time and the two of them are the only ones awake as the other inmates slumber away.

" I have to," he told him. " This job will mean that I will find her."

" So much hope for someone like you," Cobblepot muttered. " I won't stop you but remember, don't let your faith and hope blind you. It'll lead you to your downfall."

" Right," he said, not really listening. " I guessed that I'll see ya around." He cracked the wall behind him that led him outside, where a truck was waiting for him.

" Then I wished you good luck, Jones."

He looked back and nodded. " You too, Cobblepot."

And I have another part for this scene. Hopefully, I'll update some more but with so many things here, it will take time. I'd like to thanked all of you for supporting me and this story. I appreciate it a lot. On the brighter note, tomorrow's my birthday and the day Star Wars The Force Awakens comes out in theatres here. Also, I am working for a oneshot for my favourite couple here on Christmas.

Please review!