A/N: And we're back, with six reviews already! Whoo-hoo, whoo-hoo-hoo! This chapter's gonna kick you square in the ass from start to finish, because I don't like you and your preconceptions of "things must happen rationally and/or politely".. heheh. Oh, by the way, there's a guest cameo in this chappie. Don't bitch about the ending though, "its all... part of the plan..."

The Watchman III

---

The crash of wood, snapping hard against the wall like the end of an outlaw's whip. Splinters fly off the piece as men rush into the room, faces covered by ski-masks..

"What the..."

Before Gar's groggy mind can awaken enough to comprehend, he is forcibly thrown from the bed and blinded by a black bag. Struggling against his attackers, he quickly feels the cold steel of a syringe enter his skin.

"Poison..." he whispers before the drugs take effect on his system. In an instant, the blackness of the bag gives way to the darkness of unconsciousness...

---

A flush of activity, the bag is removed. Expanses of thick emptiness of light except for a few bulbs turned on above his head. Sitting in a chair, unbound, but not alone, Gar stares weakly ahead at the surrounding environment. Although groggy at first, Gar's surprised to find he's wearing his coat and kevlar suit rather than the clothes worn last night to bed.

"About time you woke up." A voice echoes through the room.

"What the fuck is going on?"

"You haven't been entirely honest with us, Watchman." The voice could be considered nearly mocking if not for the irritation present in the tone.

Gar willingly returns the irritation in spades. "Hard to be honest with a person you can't see!"

Stepping into the lights, Watchman's face twists into a confused surprise at the sight of Damon and Someone, both in suits underneath duster jackets. Damon's face looks none too pleased but pales in comparison to Someone's.

"How about now?" Damon asks, eyebrow raising slightly.

"Someone? Damon? What the fuck guys? What the hell's this all about?" Irritation fading to concern, Gar's eye refrains from twitching.. for now.

"You t'be at a'place of our choosin', Watchm'n. Y'lied t'us last night, t'at y'did." Someone replies, hands in his coat and glaring daggers at his "guest".

"Forgot to mention the quarter million dollar bounty on your head, didn't you?" Damon reminds, cutting off the expected denial forthcoming.

Concern turning to contempt, Gar hisses in reply "So that's what this is about? You're after that bounty? You just think you two can take me in?"

"D'unah be st'upid, Watchm'n. If we t'be killin' ya for t'reward, we'd t'be doin' t'at long a'go!" Someone yells back. Some people just don't see the bigger picture right away.

"Then what the hell is this all about then?"

"You told us you came out here to get stronger to deal with the Desades. Problem is by not trusting us to tell us about the bounty, you in effect lied to us." Damon informs with the glare ever-present.

"T'ats a'bad mistake."

Leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms, Gar sneers at the both of them. "Ok, I'll give you that. I needed to cover my ass in case one of yous decided to get the wrong idea. So now what? You're gonna try it anyway?"

Lighting up a cigarette, Damon takes a long drag from the burning piece of paper and tobacco. Exhaling, relieving the stress for the moment, smoke filling the air in its wake, he announces quaintly. "No. There's no point in doing that."

"Cost a'takin' ya sorry loady ass 'ome'd be too much e'ven f'me!" Someone replies, waving his hand to disperse the smoke. Drinking might be tolerable but smoking is another vice altogether.

"So you're going to help redeem yourself as well as help yourself." Damon warns, avoiding Someone's hands lest he be swatted.

"'Ey, sorry if I d'unah like y'smoke in m'face!" Someone spits back, flipping Damon the middle finger.

"Considering how you two work, you'll want something business-related done, right? What do you have in mind? Run some guns, shake down some debts, rob a few liquor stores or something?" Gar suggests though not exactly happy at the bickering pair before him.

"Y'make it sound s'bad, ya do!" Someone complains, happy that Damon's agreed to put up the cigarette.

"I have two childish Irishmen whining that I didn't tell them about some bounty... and the only way to "redeem" myself is to do some of their dirty work. Excuse me for sounding pessimistic but that isn't exactly a great thing to handle with a hangover."

"Aye, got a'point he does!" Someone announces, elbowing Damon with a wry grin.

Damon, however, is less than pleased with the banter.

"Actually, you won't be doing any of those things. I doubt an ex-Leaguer would be good at any of those jobs. No, what you're going to do is something entirely different."

"And that is?"

Nodding to Someone, who smiles with a slightly manic expression, the pair fade into the darkness.

"Survive."

---

No sooner than those words are spoken, a third man, unseen from a ski-mask obscuring his face, leaps from the dark with a knife aimed at Gar's heart. Blinking fast, Gar kicks off the chair, flipping backwards past it while the knife embeds into the wood.

"Survive, huh? Guess its what I get for trusting a pair of criminals." Gar mutters to himself, cracking his knuckles.

His opponent, knife removed, produces a second blade and starts spinning them about in his hand.

"I don't know what you want, pal, but if you think I'm gonna let you kill me.."

Bustle of motion perks Gar's ears up, his body instinctively throws itself sideways, out of the way of a third blade coming his way. Another new arrival, again hidden by black cloth, misses his attempt at piercing Gar's flesh.

Skidding to a halt, Watchman finds himself staring down the two would-be assassins, knives in their hands glistening off the lightbulbs above.

"Just how many of you are there?"

Several lighters in the room spark to life, each one producing a tiny glow that's just barely visible enough for Gar's eyes to see. Judging by the fact they surround him on all sides, sometimes two or three flames deep, he figures it must be close to thirty at best.

Gritting teeth, narrowing eyes, pulse quickening... Dumb questions require a smart-ass answer.

"Thirty to one odds, huh? Well if you're going to die, DIE SWINGING!"

At the statement, several flames vanish and men appear from the darkness, each masked and holding a variety of weapons. Some carry chains, others with knives, a few with pipes and bats. Armed only with his wits and his fists, Watchman's in for a long day's work.. Shame it couldn't happen on a clear mind.

One man down, a punch across his face sending him reeling, thrown into the body of a second, rushing attacker. Here comes the next, eyes wide, mouth screaming unseen beneath the mask, his pipe swinging for Gar's face. Sweat beads down Gar's neck before that neck, with the rest of his body, transforms into the tiny speck of flesh that is found in a flea. Landing on the pipe, the tiny, green dot bounces off the iron construct towards the offending man. Growing larger to the design of a porcupine, Watchman squeaks with delight as his quills catch the man square in the face, piercing through the cotton mask and stabbing him between the eyes. Leaping off, Gar returns to a human form, landing on the seat of the chair, arms folded as the third victim falls back into the blackness.

"Impressive." Damon's voice echoes in the room, drawing Gar's attention back towards the sound of the voice. Left eye visible as he looks over his shoulder, it shines brilliantly in the light bulb's radiance but with a fire most unattractive. Green flames burn the hottest after all.

A chain slaps hard against Gar's body, throwing him back off the chair with a painful groan. Concrete, no matter how tough you are, still hurts to land on ribs first.

"But easily distracted."

Looking up, one eye squinting from the rush of burning pain from his side, Gar sees the man with the chain dart out into the light, swinging his weapon joyfully. Smacking the concrete, he wills his body upward, catching the chain-bearer hard under the chin with one of Watchman's boots. Finishing the flip, Gar's same boots smack hard against the ground, hand outstretched and ready for the next attack. "Chain man" lands back into the darkness, bringing a smile to the green vigilante's face.

"I might be easily distracted but these guys lack the smarts to stop me."

"Ah d'unah 'no bout t'at?" With the snap of a finger, all of the lights in the room turn on, revealing a sight that thoroughly wipes the smile off of Gar's face.

Before him, where the first three men charged forth, stand another six men with guns aimed. Six "Tommy" guns, barrels locked and safeties removed, stand poised to fill Gar's green, fleshy body to the gills with hot lead.

"Now w'da do, Watchie?"

Grabbing the chair swiftly, Gar hurls it at the attackers before leaping forward behind it. As the guns start to fire, the entire room seems to fill in slow motion. Guns blazing, sending their projectiles screaming at the wooden chair hurtling towards their direction.... Gar, body stretched out, coat flapping in the rush of air, smiles gravely before his body begins to shift... Bullets hit the wood, breaking the legs and back off but the thicker, hardier center remains intact long enough to survive the throw. Landing hard in front of the shooters, they're surprised to see a snake spring from behind the wood, mouth open as it wraps around a man. Desperately, his victim flails about like a child, screaming for help as he wraps his reptilian body around the shooter's throat. Hissing at the other gunners as they try to help their friend, they find themselves in a bind. Shoot the snake and risk killing their associate or...

Changing quickly into a monkey, Gar flips forward, using his feet to claw into the next man's eye, using his forehead as a jump-off point to attack the man to the farthest right of the line. Splashing onto his face, the shock rattles the attacker back, tripping over his own feet and bringing them crashing hard onto the concrete. The blow knocks out the victim.. Three down..

Although clapping can be heard across the room, the green eyed monkey will have none of it. Away from the downed gunner, Watchman has to shift into a fly as bullets start to come down on his position again. With his thousand eyes, he can easily see the bullets coming fast. Each round dwarfs his own body in size, seeming as tree trunks passing by him rather than miniature bits of lead. Back in range of the closest target, Gar returns to a human form. Spinning his body, Gar delivers a sickening, rotating right hook across the cheek. A tooth flies across the room from the impact just as Gar lands on the ground, pupils dilated from the adrenaline surging through his animalistic body. With the last two gunners stepping back, their guns empty and desperately trying to reload, they stare in horror as Gar's normally green eyes, surrounded by white, turn entirely green with an unnatural glow. Fangs jutting from his gums, large and in charge, he cackles lowly with a predator's smile.

"Four down, two to go." Licking his teeth, Watchman warns "YOU FIRST!"

Hand snatching forward, Gar grabs the "first" man with his clawed hand, lifting him off the ground enough to drop the man's Tommy.

Shouting at Gar though with fear in his own voice, the second man tries to aim his gun to aid his comrade.

"And now YOU!"

Kicking the gun out of the other's hands, Gar then pivots his feet, throwing the first man's body hard into the second's, creating a heap on the floor.

Gunners subdued, he turns towards the spot Damon and Someone stand. Now tall and proud, teeth very visible as the smile grows on his face, eyes still wide and glowing. His green hair, normally resting peacefully at his side, is wild and waving with each motion. Although sweat beads down his face and breath escapes his lungs with a slight raggedness, he betrays no sign of stopping. Snapping his hand shut, forming a thick first, Gar shouts across the room.

"More!"

"Seem t'be happy for once, aye?" Someone suggests, shrugging as he looks at Damon with hands stretched out.

"Yes but that's only because we've just begun." Damon reminds. Looking back to Gar, he answers "You want more, huh? Good because we're just getting started. Only this time you won't be fighting some of the locals."

Eyes widening a bit more, expressions akin to hyperness or insanity across his face, Watchman's voice is silkily scary. "And who might that be?"

Heavy footsteps, understatement that might be, echoes through the building. With the light from the stairway blocked by something unseen, though obviously large from the depth of the shadow, Gar finds his manic enjoyment turning slightly to manic rage. With Someone and Damon smiling, they are joined by a living monster.

"You gotta be kiddin' me? You said I was gonna fight someone tough!" Echoing across the room, the pale blue monster, bald and scaly, booms through each person inside like a thunderbolt. Teeth sharp, eyes narrowed, this presents a challenge that even Watchman wasn't expecting.

"Looks can be deceiving, Croc. Beat him or you don't get paid." Damon warns, trying to maintain a serious face despite the risk of being turned on.

"Aww but still! I could snap this guy in half by the time ya finish writin' the check!" The whine in his voice doesn't take away from the reptile's glare at Gar, nor the toothy smile on his rough face.

The words, supposed to be an insult, only entice Garfield. Smile returning, eyes still blazing, he steps towards the center of the room. "Pretty tough words for a B-rated criminal."

Smile turning into a growl, Croc stomps angrily over to Watchman with his own eyes turning angry. How dare this little.. "What did ya say to me, boy?!"

Meeting Croc at the center of the room, Gar casually reminds Killer Croc. "Said tough words for a freak not worthy of the League's time. Maybe you still have some shit in your ears from playing in the sewers all day."

"YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!" Croc screams, balling his hands together and bringing them down at Gar's body, shorter that it is, with the intention of squashing him flat. All Croc ends up hitting, however, is air as the Watchman's body disappears from sight. "Wha? Where did he go?" Buzzing noise? Where? Eyes wide, something flaps tiny wings on the end of the mutant's nose. Clumsily, he tries to swat away the bug but only manages to hurt himself from the blow. Roaring in pain, Croc staggers back a few steps as Gar reappears before him. "What the hell ya? Some kind a freak or somethin?"

Much to Damon and Someone's surprise, if not horror, Gar's reply is simple and throaty. "Freak? That means I was born that way. No, I'm not a freak.. I'M A MONSTER!"

Diving forward, Gar makes a bold, yet costly, attack. Though he manages to spear Croc, enough to throw him back at least six paces, this opens him up to a bearhug from Croc. For the first time in the fight, Gar makes a bad mistake. Using his own size and mass against him, Croc squeezes the Watchman with all of his might. Pain from the ribs registers in Gar's mind, bringing a shout of agony as well as rage from his throat.

"Ya thought I was another one of those dumbass goons, huh? Ya ain't fightin' just any old assclown, boy, you're fightin' Croc!"

Gritting in pain, teeth clenched hard, Gar struggles to look up at Croc's smiling, boasting face. Sliding his scaly tongue across his yellow teeth, he looks ready to savor the killing blow.. Premature.

"Croc..." Gar whispers, closing his eyes... And when they snap open, Croc's own face recoils at the sight beheld to him. Reptilian in itself, Gar's body shifts in the bearhug to form a crocodile of his own. Digging his claws into the villain's body, he snaps forward and brings his powerful jaws down on top of Croc's face. The pain rushes through even the Croc's hardened body, releasing his grasp on the beast currently biting down hard on his head.

As Croc staggers back again, trying to shake off Gar, he fails to notice the wall behind him. Slamming hard, he's jolted enough to shake Gar off but enough to give his attacker the advantage. Swiftly changing into a ram, Watchman pounds the stomach of the criminal twice. Each blow sends spittle and, eventually, some blood from Croc's mouth. Eyes still ablaze, Gar changes into a variety of animals, each one striking and attacking the reeling victim before him. Blow after blow, attack after devastating attack, each aimed at dealing a finishing blow. Drops of blood turns to a pool of blood, skin turns from light blue to red from the welts, Gar's on the verge of..

"STOP!" Croc finally shouts. Holding his stomach, mouth bleeding and eyes shutting in pain. "I give, I give! What the hell are you?!!"

Standing back, Gar's eyes return to normal though gazing at Croc's figure with all the coldness and disdain of a man looking at filth. "What am I? I'm the man that just kicked your sorry ass."

As Someone and Damon stare on, mouths wide in surprise, Gar leans in close to Croc and warns him in a very inkblot-esque way. "Tired of your kind. Tired of your shit. So, we're going to make a little deal. Fuck it up and you die."

"Anything... what do ya want?"

"Scarecrow. Tell him Watchman wants to talk. Three days from now. If he's not here then, next time you die."

Nodding, scared by this shift in attitude from the smaller yet scarier vigilante, Croc quickly accepts this easy escape.

"Good. Get out. I have more important things to deal with."

Not as quickly as he'd like, Gar watches as Croc stumbles up to his feet and lumbers up the stairwell, cursing Watchman out as he does it but not loud enough to irk his rage further.

Turning now to the scared expressions of Damon and Someone, Gar warns with a cold, bitter question. "Do you trust me now?"

---

A/N2: Gar's release from the League might turn out to be a blessing in disguise. For those that have been to my Deviantart account, there's a preview of what this "angry" Gar looks like... hehe. I love it. It was slow writing at first but I threw on some hardcore techno, fightin' music, and it just took off. Granted it has some "Matrix" feel to it but in the end, fights aren't supposed to be episodes long.. fights are short and to the point. Either you win or you lose.

Trivia:
- Batman TAS Croc, not the dark green / red eyed version seen later. That version I didn't like, I liked the old one better.

Rhetorical:
Seems, once again, the Irish have unleashed a monster. I pity the Scarecrow when Gar runs into him.