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Gotham City, early morning
Killer Croc strode quietly down an alleyway, his coat and hat covering his figure as he strode towards the street.
It had been months since he had first arrived here, and nearly two months since he had been hired at the Iceberg Lounge. For a bouncer and hired muscle he was getting quite a bit of money to work with for little actual work.
However even after traveling through the city for months, he still had much to learn. He had memorized most of the larger sewer routes underneath the city, but he still had mazes of smaller routes and sub-routes to learn, something that would take time. And while the layout to the city was similar to the one he came from, he still had to learn the finer things in navigation, the locations of gang territory and which ones to avoid and which ones he could handle going through. He had already had to knock out multiple hoodlums that had decided to take him on, and the amateurs were on the floor in seconds. However, doing that caught attention, something he much preferred to avoid doing.
Walking down the street, amongst the crowd, he glanced at all the stores, some of them the same from where he came from, others different and foreign to him.
Buying a pastrami sandwich off a guy selling them from a stand on the street, he was thankful he wore gloves this time around as he paid the man.
Tearing into the meat-filled sandwich, he enjoyed the warm taste and flavor as he ignored the early autumn chill.
Stepping into another alleyway to head back towards the Lounge, he paused as he heard noises up ahead. Finishing off the food by throwing it into his maw, he slowly moved towards the noise.
Reaching an intersection, he peered around the corner to see a sight that he certainly wasn't expecting.
A burly man was thrown into a pile of trash cans, sending the contents flying as a dozen more continued fighting, fists, pipes, knives, and baseball bats flying through the air.
And in the middle of it was Batgirl. The female crime fighter held her own as she delivered a kick to one mans ribs, pivoting around to punch another man in the face before jumping out of the circle they had made around her, landing a few feet away from them after performing a backwards flip in midair.
They rushed her again, and she weaved amongst them, landing a punch or kick against them before breaking off.
Croc decided to stay, observing from the shadows as he made observations about the fight. The men were decently armed and decent fighters, most of them not making any major weaknesses for the female bat to take advantage of. However, none of them were proficient enough to get close enough to cause damage to her, leaving the two groups at an impasse.
Another man went down, kicked onto the ground and trampled upon by his peers, unconscious as the Batgirl rolled away, outmaneuvering her opponents with graceful ease.
A batarang flashed through the air, and a man dropped his baseball bat as the remaining gangsters went after her.
She kicked the legs out from under two of them as they came up to her, using the momentum to move back and throw a smoke grenade into the crowd.
The group as a whole was brought to a stop as they stumbled about, most of them slowly finding their way out of the smoke as she dived into it. Croc heard multiple punches, kicks, and cracks as Croc heard a body slump to the ground, and then another person slamming into the brick wall comprising a side of the alleyway, followed by the crack of two heads getting slammed together and the figures of two men crumpling to the ground..
'This girls good….' He thought to himself, watching some of the men get put down swiftly and efficiently. 'She's certainly got guts and knows how to throw a punch. Uses her back, not her arm, so she definitely knows what she's doing. She'd certainly give the one back in the old days a run for her money.'
He paused for a second, understanding what he had just said; the old days? Was that what it was to be, the old days?
Then he was snapped out of his own self-questioning as he heard a loud "thunk" sound and a body slumping to the ground.
Turning to look, he saw the remaining gang members had gotten out of the smoke, which had mostly dissipated, and were now in a circle, looking at someone on the ground.
"Did we get 'er?" one of them asked, holding a crowbar.
"She's knocked out like a light, lets finish her." Another one said, the sound of a switchblade being opened clearly heard from his position.
"She's mine, asshole." A third man said, pushing himself into the circle. From Croc's position he could see the guy pull out a revolver, bringing it down to point at the unconscious Batgirl and cocked the hammer.
Croc felt a pit grow in his stomach. While he was a criminal, he still had a code he followed: a sick, twisted and criminal one; but a code nonetheless. And one of the rules in the code was you never killed a worthy opponent while they were out. If they were awake, looking you in the eye, and they put up a fight, he certainly had no qualms of putting them down. But unconscious, on the ground, and having taken out a fair portion of the gang without assistance, that was not something he'd just stand and watch.
Before he even realized he had done it his hand had gone into his vest as he drew his 1911 pistol, flicking the safety off and lining up the sights on the gunman's head. Releasing his breath he squeezed the trigger.
The bullet flew through the air and went in one end of the man's head and out the other, the body crumpling to the ground with blood pouring out of his head.
The remaining hoodlums turned in his direction and the man with the switchblade was put down as well with a bullet to the chest.
Walking out of the shadows, Croc leveled the pistol at them. "Anyone else want a bullet in them, boys?" he asked flatly, keeping his voice neutral and level to show he knew what he was doing. The remaining gang members slowly backed away before they turned and ran.
Snorting in disgust, he kept the gun out until he could no longer hear their footsteps and flicked the safety back on, holstering the gun under his coat.
Walking over to the fallen woman, he brought his fingers to her neck. He felt a pulse, which was good for him to know, since the last thing he needed was to be found with a dead body, let alone the body of one of the Bat family.
Gingerly pushing her bright red hair out of the way he let his hand touch the back of her head, feeling a bump on the back of it, and knew she would most likely have a headache whenever she decided to wake up.
Standing up, he turned to walk away, until his brain decided to argue with him.
'You're leaving her here in the alley? Don't you think the gang will be back to finish the job later?' his conscience asked him, but he rebuffed it.
'Not my damn problem.'
'Then what if someone found her identity? Wouldn't you be putting her in danger, as well as the rest of her allies?'
'Not my damn problem. Someone finds her, I'm not responsible.'
Right as he got to the intersection, his conscience finally asked him 'What would Meredith think?'
He stopped in his tracks. Growling, his fist slammed into the brick wall, tearing some of the material away as Croc tried to control himself.
"Don't ever speak of her…" he growled out, not giving a damn that he was talking to himself.
Meredith Van Zeyl, a woman that had won his heart and broke it a long time ago.
He remembered when he was in his past life; listening to the Gotham City Television network and hearing her speak about his criminal exploits.
She had been different from the rest; instead of referring to him as an animal, or a monster, she referred to him by his actual name more often than his criminal alias. She had not made jokes about his teeth, or how his skin would look good on a purse, but treated him like a human being on television.
He had become infatuated with her, eventually deciding to go on his own crime spree just to obtain gifts to give her when an opportunity presented itself.
When the Batman and his two cohorts showed up to stop him, that opportunity was done faster than he expected. Of course, even he wasn't stupid enough to recognize that a six and a half foot tall alligator man barging into your home wasn't exactly positive towards a peaceful and romantic environment, but he did it anyways. Chocolates, a stuffed bear, roses, balloons, he had stolen the whole shebang when he pushed through her doorway after she had answered it.
She had seemed shocked at the whole prospect, but at least she had listened to him, which was more awe-inspiring than any speech that he could have possibly made on the fly right there. Of course, Batman and the police arrived to apprehend him, and after dealing with rifles pointed at him and a chair nearly getting thrown, he distinctly remembered how Meredith reasoned with him, asking him if the man who was about to fight them was the same man that walked through the door.
"Where was the man that walked through that door with chocolates and roses in hand? Be that man, Waylon, for me."
He would never forget those words, surrendering to the police and getting cuffed as Batman and his cohorts questioned the news reporter.
What he hadn't expected was to be given a farewell from her. He cherished that memory for months, when she told him good luck and gave him a kiss on the cheek. It had brought a smile on his face that was not in greed or in pleasure of someone's misery, but from actual happiness.
Then shit hit the fan and he saw another news reporter propose to her on live television, and she had accepted it. He remembered throwing the remote into the television, followed by throwing the TV into the water and tearing his own home apart in a fit of rage. That had of course led to him going on a rampage through Gotham, taking the combined force of half the GCPD, the Batman, Robin, and Batgirl to restrain him enough to get hurled into Blackgate. He had gone so berserk that many of the cops suggested he get moved to Arkham, but apparently the Batman of all people suggested he stay locked up in a maximum security cell in the Penitentiary.
But that had been a long time ago, and a memory best left forgotten.
Mulling over his thoughts, his conscience wouldn't leave him alone, and the guilt finally started to set in.
"Fine, this one time. Next time she can rot in the river if this shit happens again."
Turning around, Croc noted the two bodies and decided to deal with them first. Pulling open a manhole he shoved the two bodies into the sewer water, content to let them drift away from the crime scene before closing the manhole up and looking at the still unconscious Batgirl.
Slamming a fist into the brick wall, he muttered, "I never thought I'd see the day that I'd have to save a Bat's ass."
Taking off his coat and hat, his clothes easily covered the smaller figure and disfigured her shape, before slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Thinking it over he knew there weren't many places to go. Muttering to himself the entire time, he turned to start walking down the street, hoping to whoever the hell was up there a cop wouldn't show up.