Author's Note: Just a quick reply to Sunnycroc's review: That has to be the nicest, sweetest review I've ever had! Thank you. :D Literally had me smiling for ages.

Chapter 3

Dubious Deal

It was somewhere around the end of October now. Clara had tried to keep track of the date to give herself a sense of the passage of time ever since she had arrived, but with her currently unpredictable lifestyle, she had inevitably lost count of a few days.

Summer had long since ended, but this year autumn had never started. Instead, winter had decided to arrive early. She wasn't even sure she would actually be able make it through the winter outdoors if the weather got any colder; her objective of getting out of the facility as soon as possible was greater than ever if she was not to end up freezing to death in her sleep.

Making any plans outside merely surviving the night, for the duration she had been in Arkham City, had so far been nearly impossible. The two constant issues of avoiding detection and finding food took immediate precedence over everything else. Having not yet had the time to investigate the walls of the facility fully for an escape route, but at the same time reckoning that she couldn't afford not to, Clara had incorporated scouting into her regular missions as a secondary objective when she could. So far though her escape route search had been fruitless.

So far all she had proved to herself was that the wall of Arkham City was impenetrable; taller than most buildings were, illuminated by night and guarded 24/7. The perfect solution to her problem would have been if she could find an idyllic spot where she would be able to dig her way out, and where no one would be able to see her doing so. But bare earth was hard to come by in this concrete jungle, and she had no means of digging her way out anyway.

Her thoughts had then wandered to the sea, and she wondered if escape by water might be a better solution, since she knew the walls did not extend out into the bay. But being so deep in the facility with buildings so densely packed together, Clara could not see the coastline from where she was, and hadn't since before she had arrived. It didn't really matter though; she doubted that the coast was unguarded anyway, it would have been too obvious.

Currently Clara was lying on her back in the crawl space beneath a crumbling rotten porch, the space only just high enough for her to crawl under. To one side she could see last of the sun's rays were just disappearing over the horizon, it was nearly time for her to head out. While she waited, her mind had drifted, and using a pen knife she had began carving her name into the rotten wood above her.

'What are you doing?' Dereck asked, peering over her shoulder, ignoring the fact that if he had actually been there then he would not have been able to physically stand in the cramped space that Clara currently called home. 'Come on my comedic sidekick, surely you have something better to do with your time.'

She wasn't supposed to feed the illusion, that was what they had told her at Mercy. And for a while, several months before, Dereck had stopped materialising before her, only for everything to reverse when she was placed Arkham City; much of her progress lost all at once. The hallucinations had come back – tending to appear directly after she had gone through any sort of stressful situation, which unfortunately in Arkham City was pretty much every second of every day.

Clara was supposed to ignore him.

Viciously she swiped at the carving she had started and turned her head to sneer at her brother, angry at herself for her own weakness. But there was no longer anything there for her to see, Dereck had already faded from sight; and she was alone as ever.

She sighed and put her penknife away, folding back the blade and putting it securely into one pocket. Rolling over onto her front, she began to crawl towards where decking was broken overhead, and there she paused to listen for danger. In the distance she could hear the blades of a helicopter thudding in the cold night air, and if she listened really carefully she swore she could also hear the wailing of an ambulance all the way over in regular Gotham - worlds away.

Deeming the situation as safe as it could be in an open superprison filled with convicts and maniacs, Clara moved a little further forward and peeked out through the gap in the decking to get a better look down the street.

The moon was high in the sky and darkness now mostly blanketed much of the city, she had the whole night ahead of her, but she still could afford to waste time. Seeing no one around, Clara cautiously pulled herself up and out of her hiding spot, shivering a little and brushing off some of the dirt clinging to her clothes. Creeping out onto the street, she quickly sought out shadows. Stealthily as she could, Clara set out into the city once more.

As was always the problem, she was out of food.

Once more she was back in Two-Face's territory. But since the last time she had been there the security had been noticeably tightened. The gang's strength within the city had grown and there were more people than Clara could remember from the last time. They were better armed, their clothing was less tatty - some even had bullet proof vests on - and they spoke less amongst themselves when they were on patrol. It was really rather dangerous to be anywhere near to Two-face's turf now, more so than before, but Clara had managed to steal from them once before and it was this thought that kept her going.

But things weren't working out as planned. This time she had gotten as far as the bay beside the storeroom she had stolen from previously, but it was there she had to stop. She had had to hide to avoid being seen, and had been stuck hiding for nearly an hour now. There were patrols everywhere, and they seemed to appear at random.

She was getting increasingly frustrated, her judgement beginning to lapse. She just needed to slip past...

'Hey! Who's that hiding there?!'

She had been spotted. Clara's eyes darted around the room, searching quickly for an escape route, then she picked one without much further thought and bolted, choosing to get out of the building as quickly as she could.

The cold night air hit her face as she burst through one of the back doors out of the building, it clanged loudly as it bounced back off its frame after she had passed through it.

She hit a railing outside, her shoulder taking the brunt of her weight. She reeled for a moment on her feet, then crouched and slid under the obstacle and dropped down into the street below. As she skidded and ran in the muddy streets, yells rang out behind her as the alarm went up. Her primary objective failed, Clara hoped that her newest one, staying alive for at least the next 5 minutes, would be more successful.

As she ran she tried to think up an escape plan, but it was hard to keep her thoughts straight, she knew she was being chased and as a result she was panicking, the only thing that seemed important to her right at that moment was getting as far away as posibble.

She ran and then, looking back over her shoulder for just a second, she ran into someone. Instinctively she leapt back, only to promptly crash into another person standing behind her.

'What the-?!' the one she had crashed seemed just as startled as she had. She saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

Clara noticed there were actually several different people hiding in the shadows nearby, including the two she had just run into. But they were not dressed in warped plastic and grey but black and white. And she realised she had accidentally ran straight into an ambush party, into a trap, but it quickly became apparent that she wasn't the intended quarry.

'It ain't one of Two-Face's, it's a freaking street-rat!' snarled one, storming out from where he was hidden.

'Shut it, Frankie! They're going to hear us!' the men began to argue amongst themselves.

One of the group darted forward to look up the street beyond her. Frozen upon the spot, Clara's gaze darted for an escape route - danger both in front of her and behind her. There was still shouting from the direction she had came from and it was getting louder. The man she had crashed into swore.

'They know we're here! Freaking hell! The street-rat brought them right too us!'

As Two-Face's men turned the corner, the hidden men surged out of hiding to face them head on, Clara was pushed and shoved aside as they ran past, ignoring her. One of Two-face's gang had a gun, she heard as a shot rang out, then three of the Penguin's men were upon him, trying to wrestle the weapon off him.

Clara remained frozen in place for a few moments, watching as the two gangs launched into full on battle of lead pipes, knifes and fists. They were soon completely focused on fight. She turned and saw that nothing ws blocking her path beyond any more, only a straight empty street and all she had to do was run, it was all too easy. Once again her luck had paid out and she still had her own life.

Seeing the time as a good opportunity as ever to escape, she began to run again. All she needed to do now was-

A series of gun shots rang through the air behind her, and then abruptly she felt herself thrown, swerving with the motion of a stray bullet that had clipped her just beneath her right arm.

For a moment she stumbled. Then, terrified of any further shots, Clara threw herself behind the scrappy remains of an old car without tires and hid behind it. There she immediately curled into a ball. For now she felt nothing but she knew she had been hit.

She didn't know the extent of the damage, she couldn't check. The fight behind her raged on, there were several further cracks of gunfire but this ceased quite abruptly when the Penguin's guys finally managed to overcome the man holding the weapon. But Clara knew it was only a matter of time before the fight would be over - the rest of Two-Face's gang would have heard the fight, and when they appeared they would vastly outnumber the small ambush party.

And when the fight finished, their priorities would shift, and if they found her they would kill her.

She had to move.

For a moment she giggled at the irony that she had only just been escaping a mental hell to enter a physical one. Several weeks before, the staff at Mercy had said back that she was only weeks away from release, but no one had taken that into consideration when they moved her; the facility's funding was abruptly cut and they had been told move her, but that had been more than month ago now and she was no closer to being released. By law everyone within the psychiatric facilities and prisons in Gotham were to be transferred to the new Arkham City - there had even been talk of this law eventually extending out to other cities. So many newcomers died within a few days of their arrival, the TYGER guards patrolling the streets then clearing them away like trash, only for the dead to be replaced the next day by a new batch. Through it all, somehow, she was still alive.

There was no control here, no moderation or any safety. The guards were there to keep them in and nothing more. Some inmates who had tried to get out had been shot down, she had seen this with her own eyes. There was no order, only chaos. There were so many dead in the city, those that staggered off to die in alley ways, in drains and in old buildings were left lying where they fell, "ill" as when they had arrived and irrevocably dead. She hadn't seen any doctors here, nor any psychiatrists. It had to be the world's biggest joke, to call this superprison a mental health facility.

The place was more like a giant gladitorial pit, where only the strongest and wiliest would survive; Clara had known ever since she had arrived that she would not be one of the last ones standing, it was why she fought so hard to escape.

The fight had reached a crescendo, she could tell by the sounds that backup had arrived. The Penguin's guys had broken off from the fight now and were running, right back down the street in which she was hiding.

Clara pulled down upon the edges of her beanie. Her mind began to mist over in terror, knowing that she needed to act now. She planned to run ahead of the retreating gang coming her way, so as to effectively use them as a shield from any further shots fired by Two-Face's people.

Her pulse thudded warningly in her ears as she began to slide out from behind the car. She shifted to bolt out from her hiding space, whether to run for her life or to her death she wasn't sure, only to see that the Penguin's gang were already tearing past. She would have to run behind them.

One of them stumbled though, catching sight of her as she moved out onto the open street, and to her horror began to run back towards her.

'Tony! Tony, what are you doing?!' he shouted at her.

Clara, spooked, decided that she did indeed love life, turned to bolt in the other direction despite the obvious danger. But by then the strange man had reached her and had grabbed her by one arm, only then to her surprise he was pulling her along after the others.

'Tony, we need to fall back!' the stranger shouted, spittle flying from between missing teeth. Clara was too scared to object, and ran as she was pulled along. She glanced at the confused man that was convinced she was called Tony and knew that she didn't know him. He was balding with streaks of grey in what was left of his hair, one side of his face was heavily scarred but most disturbingly of all was that he was also completely missing an eye on one side, and when the light caught upon his remaining eye Clara saw that it was clouded.

'You need to keep close to the ground, Tony, and return to the museum!' he told her firmly, his grip relinquishing as they ran.

'Okay,' she replied weakly in a deep as voice as she could muster, deciding to play along for the moment as they ran. But still the stranger didn't release her, and Clara found herself wondering how well the man could hear, so she added more loudly. 'We'll meet up back at base.'

'That's my boy!' the man grinned, tobacco stained teeth bared in a grin. They were now safely beyond any of Two-Face's gang's immediate sight of view. He quickly patted her upon the back and released his grip, moving to run alongside her and the others.

Only, of course, as soon as she was released, Clara changed directions and ran away.

Seeking safety as soon as possible, Clara didn't head directly back to her usual haunt. Clara knew that she was still disorientated from fear, and it wasn't safe for her to stumble around on the surface any longer, it was simply too hard for her to focus in her current state of mind.

Miraculously she found a place where the ground had collapsed and crumbled to reveal the partially filled tunnel of a subway, much like the way down she had taken before - and that led on to remembering what exactly had happened last time. For a moment she hesitated. But it was then that she also remembered the relative warmth and isolation; relatively the place was safe given that she didn't run into anyone down there. It Killer Croc didn't exist or had never been placed in Arkham City, then she knew it would have been a near perfect safe haven.

But she also knew that he couldn't be everywhere at once.

She decided to take the risk, and clambered down.

Immediately she was surrounded by the relative warmth of the subway, and she felt a little better. But nothing actually changed, she was still exhausted, upset and possibly bleeding to death. As soon as she saw that no one was around, or at least in sight, she collapsed in a hissing heap against the rubble, surrounded on either side by broken pipes and crumbling bricks.

She forced herself to sit upright, taking off her jacket and gently easing up her shirt to check the extent of the damage. There was quite a bit of blood, but thankfully the bleeding seemed to be slowing, it wasn't as nearly as bad as she had first thought.

Feeling weak and shaky, she wasn't sure whether it was from shock or blood loss. She tried not to think about it.

It was then that Dereck decided to make another appearance.

'Ouch, that looks painful,' he commented, sitting down next to her. 'I don't suppose you have any bandages?'

'I don't suppose you could get me some antiseptic solution?' she grumbled back at him, unsure whether or not to be unhappy that she was imagining that her brother was actually there to help her.

'You know, if you boil some water, then that should do so as an alright cleaning solution,' Dereck suggested, but she couldn't see him any more.

'Does it look like I have any way to boil water!?' Clara snarled, wincing as she adjusted how she was sitting. Nor did she have any cloth with her, let alone clean cloth, she would have to improvise. She pulled off the ragged scarf she currently wore, being careful not to twist her torso, and she used it to dab gingerly at the wound. Then summoning her courage she pressed down over the area.

Pain flared but Clara felt no buckling nor anything hard move beneath her skin. While she was by no means certain, she believed that she had at least been lucky enough to avoid any broken bones or have any poisonous metal lodged under her skin. In fact the bullet seemed to have merely clipped her side, taking a chunk of flesh with it but not mortally wounding her. This by no means though ruled out the possibility of fractures or of later infection.

'Don't look,' she told Dereck, but he had already vanished.

She shook her head once, clearing her mind, then she raised her shirt, gripping the end of it between her teeth to stop it unravelling, and wrapped the scarf tightly around and over her chest as a makeshift bandage, so that she could apply pressure to the injury without having to hold the material down herself. She tied the ends of the scarf together, and pulled her shirt back down over it. Gingerly, she put back on her jacket and zipped it up, careful not to knock the makeshift bandage, and lay back against the uneven stone floor.

'Just think about something nice,' she told herself, trying to calm her breathing, the last thing she wanted to do was to go into shock. 'Roast chicken, a warm bed, family,' But her thoughts were scattered and couldn't focus on one item for more than a few seconds as her side would twinge and she would be dragged back to reality. She decided to rest a little while, just a little until she had her breath back.

Only she ended up falling asleep.

Clara awoke drowsily, unconcerned and uncertain where she was at first. For a moment she couldn't understand why her mattress was so lumpy and uncomfortable, and in a daze she wondered if she had rolled out of bed sometime during the night. But when she opened her eyes she didn't see the usual blue wallpaper nor posters upon the walls, instead she saw crumbling concrete and brick. And in the distance she could see the end of a train, its wheels broken and splayed out on either of it. Even then though, it still took her a further few moments to remember that she was not in her student bedroom at Gotham University, but lying underground in the ruins of an old abandoned subway. The gritty ground pressing up into the back of her hands.

It was then the reason why she had awoken in the first place became apparent.

Frozen, she listened. The footsteps were heavy, loud, echoed and amplified by the tunnels. She could hear them coming closer and closer, louder and louder. She couldn't see anything from where she lay, but she didn't dare move either for fear of bringing attention to herself. The tunnel floor beneath her seemed to shake.

There was only one individual she had seen here that would be big enough to make that happen.

'It can't be him, not so soon…' she told herself. But on high alert, her mind screamed back at her that Killer Croc was very close by.

She could only hope that he wouldn't notice her and pass by and be gone. But Clara knew she hadn't exactly hidden herself; sure she wasn't lying in the centre of the tunnel, but anyone with half a brain that might look her way would be very unlikely to miss her lying there amongst the rubble.

But she remained still, breathing as quietly as she could and listening intently.

To her great surprise, in their rush, they did appear to pass right by her. Clara breathed a sigh of relief, her body going slack for a moment. If it was Killer Croc, he sounded like he was in a hurry, she concluded by the rapid rate of the paces.

She remained where she was though, waiting until she was sure she was alone again.

Clara wondered if perhaps it had been another like the unfortunate she had met before. Someone sneaking goods away to bargain with or win favour, the underground network was so extensive under Arkham City that she couldn't see why the big three wouldn't all use it to their own advantages when it came to smuggling. Maybe it wasn't Croc.

But then the footsteps slowed and stopped.

Clara immediately froze again, there was nothing more that she wanted than to move just enough to see what the intruder was doing, but she didn't dare.

There was a sharp hissing sound like the ripping of paper, and Clara wondered if perhaps if they were tearing up a document. But some part of her already knew that this wasn't the source of the sound, because part of her recognised the sound and it filled her with terror.

The footsteps were returning, and now she was certain that the ground was indeed shaking in rhythm with the being's approach.

Her eyes darted for an escape route, but she could hear the predator was already much closer than was comfortable and she wondered frantically if she would actually even be able outrun him with such a small head start. She remembered all too vividly what had happened last time she had had a run in like this, and though it hadn't been her whom had been shredded to pieces, she had still seen the results.

Her thoughts stopped when silence fell and she knew Killer Croc was looming right over her. And there was no question as to whether she had gone unnoticed. Why had she thought it was a good idea to come down here again?!

She didn't dare breath. Too scared to move, Clara played dead.

Part of her illogical mind had brought up the fact that in the wild most predators would not touch carrion, which was where the term 'playing possum' had originally came from, but she had also forgotten that beggars can't be choosers and in Arkham City pretty much everyone was essentially a beggar.

Behind her ribs, her heart was beating frantically, and it was becoming increasingly harder for her to keep up the act. But somehow she managed to remain as limp as a ragdoll, even when a clawed hand hooked around her middle and she felt herself being raised up off the ground.

Fractions of a second seemed to drag on for hours as she fought to stay calm, but not even able to see her foe quite suddenly a series of images, such as Croc simply ripping her in half, popped into her mind. She remembered again quite distinctly then what had happened to the poor hapless stranger she had been tailing the week before. Perhaps it was time to incorporate senseless plan 'scream, thrash and try to escape'.

Claws prodded her jacket then, right over where the bullet had clipped her. Already on edge, she yelped and curled up at the sharp jolt of pain. Her eyes opened and with terror she saw Croc's maw only a few feet above her.

'You're not dead,' he stated, confirming the notion more to himself than her, one of his hands abruptly locking around one of her legs to hold her still. 'Let me fix that.'

'This isn't fair! Stop!' she cried out. 'You're not supposed to be interested in carrion!'

'I could smell the blood,' Croc growled down at her, she could feel his claws tightening through the thick material of her jacket. 'I know you're injured. I see you breathing, and that means, you're not dead.'

'I won't make good eating, I swear! I'm all bone and sinew!' she grit out, terrified and kicking out with her one free leg, ignoring the sting of her wound. 'So just let go of me and forget you saw me!'

'You're not my first choice,' he replied with a crackling chuckle. 'The funny thing is, I can't afford to be picky, so you'll have to do, no matter how bony.'

Realising that he was about to either break her neck or pull her into pieces, Clara tried to bargain.

'What about a deal?!' she proposed quickly, hands flying out in front of her in a vain attempt to protect herself. 'You don't have to eat me, I can get you something better!'

'And what could you possibly offer me?' Killer Croc almost sounded annoyed, but she was surprised he responded at all having expected him to ignore her and kill her on the spot.

'I err...' Clara thought desperately to come up with a response. 'I could bring you half of my next loot! I'm good at being sneaky! I've stolen from Two-Face's gang before and I can do it again! I normally steal food but I could steal something valuable if that's what you'd prefer!'

Abruptly the hand around her middle squeezed down tighter, pushing the air from her lungs. She struggled violently again when she felt the edges of her wound being stretched under the compression. She pulled frantically on his fingers in the vain hope of relieving the pressure, but the skin upon his hand was hard and thick, and she doubted if he could even feel her struggling.

'I don't reckon you steal much, let alone enough to feed me. And what would valuables be worth here?' he hissed at her, his grip not relinquishing. 'There is no one to trade with, the only things of value here are food and weaponry, and I only need the first.'

Clara knew this was true, she could barely feed herself as it was, but she really had nothing else to offer. Then she remembered how she accidentally been lured down into the subway before, when she had been following that unfortunate stranger that had ended up being Killer Croc's lunch.

'What if I could lure others down here?' she replied quickly. 'No one likes me stealing from them, they all chase me if they see me!'

Croc froze, the hand around her middle loosened a little, but then just as abruptly the grip returned and he was glaring at her.

'And what would such a promise be worth once I release you?' he questioned warningly. 'Do you think you will be able to just scurry back to the surface and you'll never see me again?'

'I don't like competition anymore than anyone else. If you picked off those I lured down here, then that rids me having to waste time losing them above ground,' she said, grinning in terror. 'And if I went back on my promise, you'd just kill me next time and that would be that.'

Killer Croc still didn't release her, but at least his grip slackened somewhat.

He was regarding her suspiciously. Clara did her best not to show her fear - looking in Croc's direction but at the same time not looking directly at him.

'What were the words you used last time...' he rumbled, prodding at the dry blood upon her jacket. 'That if you died somewhere on the surface I wouldn't be able to get you?'

'I'm not dying! They only clipped me, I was just resting down here. It's freezing up top,' she excused, suddenly concerned that he didn't think she was up to the job. 'I can get people to come down here!'

Croc didn't respond, but Clara alarmingly could feel his grip beginning to tighten again.

'I practically already brought someone to you the last time we met! That guy was following me coz I stole from him!' she lied hurriedly. 'I can do it again. I've got nothing to lose but my life, and that's exactly what I'm bargaining with!'

Abruptly she found herself falling, the grip around her body having been relinquished, she hit the ground painfully.

Clara immediately rolled over and got to her feet, holding her now aching elbow to her chest, but even standing at her tallest, Croc loomed over her without even trying.

'One chance. Don't pay up and the deal is off,' he threatened her. 'Failure means I crush your bones and skin you.'

She nodded quickly, knowing the threat was completely literal, her feet itched to run.

He regarded her out of narrowed eyes for a moment, then abruptly crouched down and leaned towards her, still glaring at her as if searching for any sign of deceit. Even crouched though, his mere presence seemed to fill up the tunnel, and somehow made him appear as if he were about to pounce. Clara stumbled back a few steps, before she could convince her shaking legs to stay still again.

'It'll have to be at night, I can't risk daylight or I will end up-' she began to say.

But it was then that the distant sound of approaching laughter came echoing down the tunnel.

Croc lost interest in her for a moment, turning to look towards the source of the sound, and for a moment Clara risked looking too and saw moving shadows stretching upon on the walls. A group of people were coming, perhaps a scouting party for one of the big three, and by the amount of sound they were making, they were pretty confident in their ability to defend themselves.

Her eyes immediately darted back to the more immediate threat when she noticed him move out of the corner of her eye. Croc had tensed, his muscles bunching and his clawed fingers curling in upon themselves.

Now faced with two potential threats, Clara felt her mind was beginning to become overwhelmed with conflicting information. She wanted to turn and run back up the tunnel to get away from the approaching patrol before they saw her, but at the same time she was worried that such a sudden action might set off Croc into ripping her to shreds.

She tried to say something but no sound left her throat - she didn't even dare breath.

Her gaze flickering back and forth nervously. Slowly, Clara began to crouch closer to the ground, and readying herself to run, deciding to ignore the quite possible consequences. Fight or flight was what the situation screamed at her, but she already knew the first option was definite suicide.

Abruptly Killer Croc snapped around to look down at her with an intense inhuman stare. She said nothing, but she really didn't need to do so to convey her wish to flee. She began to fidget, chewing on her tongue, her gaze still flickering rapidly from one thing to the next.

Croc looked away from her again, back towards the direction of the intruding group. He seemed to come to a decision, and got to his feet.

Clara leapt back, putting more space between the two of them, but there was really no need. Croc had completely redirected his focus away from her.

He braced his feet firmly against the floor, and then propelled himself into charge, thundering down the tunnel towards the incoming patrol. Clara could literally feel the ground shaking beneath her feet.

Clara immediately took this chance to run in the opposite direction, back up the tunnel. And as she fled she heard the start of terror: the yells and shouts, then a bone chilling roar reverberated in the tunnel. She heard screams and the cracking of gunshots, and she wondered if she had just made a terrible choice.

She heard Croc roar again, far away but by then she had reached the cave-in and was scrambling back out onto the surface, the old crumbling bricks and concrete stinging her fingers as she frantically pulled herself up.

When she finally got back to her hideout the first rays of sun were just appearing over the horizon.

She quickly slid under the old house and lay still, worried that the injury on her side was bleeding again. Clara slowly curled herself up into a ball for warmth, and waited for sleep to come.

A/N: I can't help but feel something is missing in this story, originally I wanted just to stick to Clara's POV throughout the fic but since going over the drafts for the future chapters I can't but help think that maybe I should throw in some of Croc's POV too? In the first draft of this story, the first chapter began with an inner monologue of Killer Croc while he was still stuck in Arkham Asylum - but I ended up cutting this out in the end coz it seemed too out of place. So erm...any thoughts?

One of the main reasons I've chosen so far to not show Croc's POV is that I feel it would lessen the impact he gives - basically he seems more dangerous and unpredictable if his POV is not given, which is the impression I want to give at least for now but won't necessarily want to do later on.

Quick summary of this chapter:

Clara sets out to steal from Two-Face. Things don't go according to plan and she has to flee after being spotted, only to run straight into an ambush set up by the Penguin meant for Two-Face's gang. Two-Face's and Penguin's gangs fight, Clara tries to run away during the ensuing chaos but ends up getting clipped with a stray bullet. She hides behind a car, fearing the injury is worse than it looks. She gathers her courage and tries to flee again only this time it is someone from the Penguin's gang that stops her - a strange one-eyed man who seems to believe her name is Tony, and tells her to head back to base because of her injury. Clara plays along briefly, then gets out of there as quickly as she can.

She goes below ground as she finds a hideaway down before she can get back to her usual hideout, there she tends to her wounds and rests for just a moment, but ends up falling asleep.

When she wakes up she is aware she is no longer alone. Croc in his endless patrols of the underground has tracked her down, Clara plays dead hoping that he'll go away. This fails though, and to save herself Clara is forced to make a deal, managing to convince Croc that by letting her go she'll be able to bring prey to him. However before they can come to any arrangement, it becomes apparent that one of Joker's patrols are walking around nearby. Croc breaks off to confront them, Clara takes the chance to flee.

Next time (spoiler) = Clara inadvertently ends up joining gang.