Darkness. Stench. Filth. Muck.

Home.

How long had they left me down here in this fucking cesspit. Without sessions or human interaction time didn't have any meaning. It felt like years. I was here to fucking rot. Figures.

Rage. Isolation. Irritation. Wrath.. Misery?

As if I allowed myself to feel such a thing. Self pity was for the weak-minded, the weak-willed. Those spineless fucks who don't have what it takes to survive. Strength and sheer will: that's what one needed, above all else, to survive. That, and some shit to fuel their burning hatred. The trick, of course, was to expand that list of fuel. Once you had a supply of stimulants to send you into a frenzy of motherfucking anger, you could conquer the world if you so fucking desired.

My list was never-ending, ever expanding. Every fucking week I found some new irritant to add to my extensive list. There were the usuals, of course: people, women, Bane, Cash, the Joker, Sharp, Batman, every single one of those fucking useless bird-boy incarnations. And then there were the little things: various Arkham guards, alcohol, sirens, screaming, laughter, missing out on my share of the cartel. Lately? The lack of fucking food I was getting. I hadn't fuckin eaten in about a week and I was about to eat the next person I came across. The next intern who tried to get into my head with boundary-crossing, provocative questions; the next greenhorn guard who didn't know how to shoot to kill; the next motherfuckin' person who tried to throw some half-rotten rack of beef at me.

Yeah, that was one thing I bet that white coat bitch didn't know. The sheer amount of times I resorted to violence because these assholes, these same assholes who call me "monster", don't even provide half of the inmates with proper meals, simple nutrition. Shit, look at the fucking Clown, that motherfucker is nothing but a pile of 2x4's. And he so frequently wonders why I haven't tried to eat him yet.

Fuck. I needed to get out of here. I didn't know where the fuck to go, but I wanted out. I wanted the quiet safety of some dumpy, abandoned apartment building. No people. No noise. No guards. Nothing.

I jumped off of the floating wooden pier I had been laying on and dived into the somewhat cool waters of the Asylum sewer system, the fuckin dump I—for now—called "home". For all their murky lies on the surface, the water was mostly clear beneath, though truly a pallid yellow-green color which would have made me vomit if I wasn't used to this shit. If I hadn't been holding my breath I'd laugh. No, it wasn't anywhere in the realm of sanitary but it was how I liked it. The more of a piece of shit, disgusting a place something is, the less 'normal' people tend to want anything to do with it. In a weird fuckin way, I related to the sewers. Ha.

As I swam, I regarded the scattered piles of bones, both human and animal, which littered the sewer floor. Skulls were the prize. Every single guard I killed, their head was on my floor, rotting in the filth and shit they despised. Just gives me the fucking warm-and-fuzzies, it does. Ramirez, my latest acquisition, was putrefying so nicely, and that really did bring me joy. Emotional joy, that is. At least as close to it as I could fuckin get.

I wondered what my wayward doc would think of me if she could see my collection. After all, didn't she want me to be happy? Surely the one thing in my life that makes me 'happy', she'd support? Grinning, I came to a rest in a bottom corner, somewhere in the maze of the sewer, somewhere far away from the entrance, somewhere I couldn't be bothered. I also enjoyed being submerged underwater, where sounds were muffled and soft and almost nothing. Where I felt as empty and as much of a weightless piece of shit as I felt nearly on a constant basis. Insignificant. Nothing. I liked it down here. I really, really did. And despite the lack of freedom and shit, I could see myself being content enough to die here if that was the way things played out. But realistically? Nah, I was outta here one way or another. That much was inevit-

It was heavily muffled by the water, but I could distinctly hear the sounds of someone yelling. What the fuck. Before surfacing, I checked the edges of the water, for any signs of someone or something creeping around. Not a soul. Boo-fucking-hoo. And here I'd really wanted to stalk them and scare them and just when they were about to leave? Snatch them, drown them, eat them. With two powerful kicks of my legs I reached the surface and cautiously but alertly looked around, and again, nothing.

"JONES!" The crash of the voice which rang throughout the caverns was fucking irritating as hell. "Croc! I'm not hangin out down here forever, so if you can hear me, come to the gate!" Collins. That motherfucker, what the fuck did he want. Was he fucking stupid. I sure hoped so. Honestly, though, I didn't really give a flying fuck what that bastard wanted. I went to go back under when he piqued my interest.

"I've talked with Cassandra, there were some things she wanted me to say to you. I wouldn't put it past you to not give a shit, but at least fucking listen. For her sake." I rolled my eyes, huffed, and climbed onto the floating pier system. Fucking Christ I was tired of dealing with her. She was as bad as they came. But yet here I fucking was, walking to go hear what she had to say.

I rounded the corner to the entrance corridor and in the distance saw Collins, armed with his typical rifle, in his typical riot gear, prepared for World War III.

"You look like shit," he said as I approached. "And you smell like shit too."

I waved my arm around. "I hadn't noticed where the fuck we are." I rolled my eyes again, and stared right at him. "What the fuck do you want."

"I've tried coming down here a few times but I don't know if you ever listened. Cassandra wanted me to relay messages for you, since most of her Arkham clearances have been revoked."

Oh, what a fucking pity, that was. Not.

"She put her job on the line for you, you know. You be a little more grateful, show a little more respect." He glared at me, and attempted a threatening posture.

I laughed. "She means nothing to me, I don't give a shit. You really don't know me all that well after all, do you."

Collins smiled in annoyance and looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. "You just such a piece of shit, Croc. You really are. God damn. She came here, ready to help. Ready to make a difference in someone's life. By the worst stroke of shit luck, she fucking got you. And she didn't even fucking waiver. You're a shithead."

"Is this the part where you tell me I'm throwing away a good thing and how stupid I must be? Where you lecture me?" I leaned against the wall on my left shoulder and crossed my arms over my chest.

"No. You're too fucking stupid to comprehend anything I have to say."

"What'd the Doc want you to tell me?"

"She wanted me to tell you 'bye'." He shrugged disinterestedly.

My blood started to boil. "That's it? That's what you fucking came down here to waste my time with?!" My heart rate increased, my breathing came out in pounding breaths.

"I'm sure there was more, but she wasn't going to tell me. She prefers lizard over man. Ain't that disgusting?"

What? I stood up from my relaxing position leaning against the wall and regarded Collins evenly, with my full attention. "Say it again. I fucking dare you."

Collins laughed like the prick he was. "What, lizard boy?"

I started taking slow, deliberate steps towards him, the weight of my footsteps thundering throughout the chamber. I glared at him and never moved my gaze from his. His smirk goaded me forward until I was standing against the bars of the gate, looking down my nose at Collins' shit-eating grin. His gun and his gear and his normal looks gave him the cocky arrogance he wouldn't otherwise have had, but he was a small son of a bitch. He was eye-level with the center of my chest and built in similar fashion to the Joker. Probably as easy to break as Ramirez. Although he wasn't anywhere near close of a fucking threat to me, I wanted to reach through the bars and rip his limbs off one by one nonetheless.

"How aggravating must be it, to be behind those bars and unable to do a goddamn thing?"

Faster than he could react, my right arm shot from between the bars and grabbed a fistful of Collins' bulletproof vest and shirt. I yanked him so hard towards me his head smacked against the bars with a reverberating bung. "Do you wanna fuckin repeat that? My hearing is fuckin fantastic but I wanna make sure I get the whole thing right."

Wide-eyed, Collins twisted and jerked and tore off the Velcro that held his vest secure; he managed to slither right out of my grip and backed away from the gate several feet for good measure. But not before I caught a scent. It was a sweet scent. Floral. Feminine.

I stepped back and straightened up while my brain processed the information given it. Realization struck me in the face like a fuckin hammer and, my brows furrowed in anger, I glared murder straight at Collins. He stood there, smoothing his hair out of his eyes, and adjusting his shirt. He started grinning.

"You must smell her perfume, is that it?" Collins whistled low and long. "Just think. Last night, while you were in here wallowing in filth, on an empty stomach, most likely ruing the day you were born, I was at Cassandra's apartment, having dinner with her. Invited, no less. But I'll tell you what, cuddling her on the couch during a movie is just as good as you must imagine it feels."

Seething. Fucking. Anger.

I launched myself at the gate and tried with every ounce of energy I had to grab Collins, to break the bars, but nothing yielded. My mind had long since gone fucking primitive and my only consistent thoughts were murder, and kill.

"Damn. Where does this rage come from? You conduct yourself as if you hate her guts, and yet whenever some guy talks about her like this, you go full-on chivalrous wraith. Its unbelievable."

I didn't really know what the fuck to say so I continued to growl at him. Yeah it made me so fucking angry and I didn't know why. I didn't fucking know. I was so sick and fucking tired of her under my skin. She was nothing to me, no one. Just a fucking shrink in a white coat rudely inviting herself into my personal business. What the fuck did I care that Collins spent the night with her? Had dinner with her? Cuddled her? ...Fucked her? Fuck the hell out of this shit.

"You think this has anything to do with her you fucker?! It has everything to do with you, you spineless shit. Talking the big talk on the 'safe' side of these bars. When I get my fucking hands on you, whatever "understanding" it is you think we have will mean nothing."

Collins sighed and looked down at his boots. "Croc, I didn't come here to fight. I'm fucking pissed because of the way you treated her while she was here. You really did have a good thing in her, you had a chance. At what, I don't know. Salvation? Do you even believe in any of that shit? Damn..." He kicked a pebble into the water. "She's devastated about what happened. She's blaming herself for the kid you killed. She doesn't know if she'll have a job here come next week, whether or not she'll be reviewed favorably. She's the first and only person I've ever known to see something in you. You just don't fucking deserve it."

Still raging, still pissed beyond recognition or help, I tried to grab Collins one last time, but he was still out of reach. "I don't fucking care. Deserve has nothing to fuckin do with it. I'd hate to see her go but at least I'd get some peace and fucking quiet around here. No regular sessions, no poking and prodding and prying!" I grabbed the bars in both hands and roared as I tried one last time to break them. "Leave me the fuck alone Collins, I'm done. I ain't entertaining you no more." Albeit somewhat reluctantly, I turned and left.

I jogged down the concrete corridor to the start of the floating pier and dived off the side of it, swimming furiously and quickly through the maze of tunnels and channels.

Thanks for reading! And welcome back ;)

-Soule