Beneath the surface.
No one bothered to ask, no one bothered to even know, they just stared or tried to look away. No one asked because no one wanted to hear the story because no one cared.
He didn't blame them. Why would they care, what was he after all other then a monster? He'd heard the guards say it enough times to believe it, to believe they were true.
He'd heard the kids say it too and at first he tried to ignore them and stay good, but that didn't work and they still teased so he proved them right one day.
Now? Well now you'd hardly recognise a person hiding behind the thick green scaly hide and sharp teeth, the new tail was a nice touch too.
Waylon Jones, known to many in Arkham as the infamous Killer Croc sat in his usual cell underneath the Asylum, the rush of the water was the only comforting sound he had or else it would just be pure silence.
Occasionally he would be aloud up top to be with the others but that was only on good behaviour. He'd been good recently, but it wasn't break time yet.
Sometimes he honestly hated going up there and being with the others. Sure they weren't normal, but at least they could hide it behind a smile and a pleasant tone of voice. Him? Well what could he do, the subject was made even worse after the experiments… the torture the warden and the rest of the staff at Iron Heights prison in the sky that he caused to crash down after finally escaping from his cage.
He freed the other prisoners there too, the ones that had also suffered at the hands of men in charge, men with power.
He was starting to see why Anarky hated those in charge, he had good reason to.
Slowly, Waylon got to his feet and walked over to the edge of the water, staring into it's murky depts at the monster staring back at him. If he concentrated really hard, he could imagine and see what his face would look like if he looked normal.
No one understand. How could they? They all looked normal, even Ivy with her green skin she still looked like a human being, but himself? He looked like nothing other then a monster a thing he had eventually become.
The huge double iron door was pulled open and Waylon turned at the sound of it grating against the ground as a group of heavily armoured guards stood at the door, waiting for him to come over.
He turned and lumbered over them, taking things slow so not to startle them into firing. One thing being more closely towards the animal end of the human spectrum; he could read body language very well.
They were scared, but they had every reason to be.
He would let them think their little guns could actually do anything, they couldn't and deep down he had a feeling they knew that, but whatever makes them feel safer he supposed.
Slowly he walked the halls with them not far behind him as they walked him to the rec room. He never said anything to any of them, more concentrating on keeping himself hunched over so he didn't hit the ceiling, he had more of a problem with fitting his tail in now.
He also felt like he'd grown a little bit too, but that was hard to tell, he'd always been tall, always been big, used to scare the kids because of it.
As he entered he wasn't at all surprised to see everyone suddenly snap their heads up to look at him, their eyes widening in shock and for some cases fear, a few even looked like pity, but Waylon didn't want their pity, he just wanted to look normal.
"Get in, Croc!" the Guard behind him barked and slowly Waylon walked in, keeping himself hunched so he didn't hit the ceiling once more as he went inside, slowly walking over to the sofa, noticing how the current inhabiters quickly removed themselves from the sofa.
He was used to that.
They used to do it before he looked like this, now he looked worse, much much worse.
He could feel their eyes on him, it was truly a little hard not to feel the people around watching him, looking on at him like he was a monster, that truly he probably was, but he didn't need their constant staring to be reminded of that fact.
Deciding he'd had enough of their stairing, he looked around the room with his glowing yellow eyes and sent a horrid growl at each of them.
Their heads snapped in the other direction quickly and no one looked back at him.
No one bothered because no one cared. No one wanted to hear the sob story of a monster, no one wanted to look beneath the surface.
He knew why, it was because they were scared.
No, they weren't scared of finding a monster or an animal underneath, no something much worse, something much, much worse then that. They were scared that if they looked beneath the surface they might find something that was more human then animal or monster.
And truth be told, Waylon knew that out of all the things about him, that was the thing that scared everyone the most.
The human that sat beneath the surface.
So he sat for another day in border before he was taken back to his cell and given raw meat again, but he was used to this by now. They treated him like an animal and a monster because they didn't want to face the truth that he was actually a human with a condition that he couldn't change no mater how much he wanted to, so he sat in silence and ate, listening to his only companion the water.
No one bothered to ask, no one bothered to even know, they just stared or tried to look away. No one asked because no one wanted to hear the story because no one cared.
No one wanted to see the man behind the monster, so Waylon dealt with this the same way he dealt with all his problems. He ripped through them, tarred it to pieces, showed everyone what he was, showed them all who the creature under the asylum really was.
He wasn't aloud up stairs again for another month, not after the guards he ripped to pieces were finally laid to rest, well the parts that were left of them.
So Waylon was left alone down stairs again, left alone to deal with his problem, with his condition on his own like always.
He was used to this by now, but there as no mistaking the sobs that would sometimes drift up through the pipes of Arkham for all the hear.
Everyone asked, everyone always wanted to know, they tried not to stare and look away. Everyone asked because everyone wanted to hear the story because they cared.
They saw the man behind the monster and they cared and they felt sadness, they would always be concerned, they would always ask each other for answers, always ask the Doctors if he was okay and if all was fine.
They always asked everyone, they always asked everyone they thought might no the answer, the ones who would know for definite what was wrong with Waylon and if there was anything could be done. They always asked the people who truly would know the answer to all their questions.
No one ever asked Waylon.
THE END.
Note: Okay so yeah this is a sad one I know, really really sad :(
Next one will not be sad :)
Okay guys, I really have to apologise for this taking so long to update, but my computer has been having trouble recently and then I had college work to do as well as other personal stuff to do with my family, so yeah super busy at this moment in time, but the computer is now fixed and is better so I should be able to write and catch up. Once again I am really sorry this update has taken so long, hopefully the next one won't take as long and requests are still open if anyone is still up for it.
Stay tune for next episode! :D