Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Batman: Arkham (c) to DC Comics, Rocksteady Studios and whoever-else-made-it

Sunnycroc: regarding Croc's POV, I agree with you, I'm going to go for it in the next chapter :)

Chapter 4

Double Blunder

It was bitterly cold.

Clara rolled her shoulders, feeling the tug of her makeshift bandage over where the bullet had clipped her. She hadn't dared unwrap it since the incident, but it wasn't hurting any worse than it had been. Though sometimes, after she had been running, it hurt to breathe - but if there was something wrong she couldn't do anything about it anyway.

As she cautiously broke into another tin of food, listening all the while for anyone nearby, she tried to think of ways she could keep warmer. A fire would have been one solution, but she knew to light one would have been suicide; a beacon for every criminal and psychopath within the entire city. Putting on extra layers was also a possible solution, but it would also be cumbersome and noisy - making it harder for her to sneak around.

For the past couple of days Clara had been shivering near constantly, and wondering whether or not there might be a point when she went to sleep where she might not wake up at all. It was time to take action, she needed to consider moving again.

Right now the subway was sounding her best option. Underground and isolated from the battering winter winds, warmer than the surface. But of course that solution was also possibly suicide, it was the domain of Killer Croc.

It had been two days now, and so far she hadn't done a thing to honour their agreement.

Her argument regarding the situation with the deal was that they simply had never come to any precise agreement details. She had said she would lure someone down, she hadn't said when. Though she doubted Croc would see things the same way when they crossed paths again.

'Freezing to death might be the least painful way to die,' Dereck said. 'I mean, compared to what Croc might do to you if he realises you lied to him.'

'If I do see him again, I'll just finish off the conversation we were having last time,' she replied, though not aloud. 'Our paths are probably going to cross again whether or not I like it. There is no way I can survive much longer up here, it's getting too cold!'

Part of her hoped that it wouldn't come to that. She hoped that maybe there was a small chance that, for some reason, Croc might have spontaneously died or maybe had escaped out of the compound altogether. Rationally though, she knew this was very unlikely to have happened, and it was actually more dangerous for her to not run into him sooner so that he didn't think she had backed out on their deal, especially if she was to begin using the subway as her refuge for the winter.

'He must have to move around a lot to find any unfortunates stumbling around underground,' continued Dereck indifferently, his voice grating. 'Can't imagine many people are stupid enough to go down there once they realise who lives there.'

Clara focused her gaze on where Dereck's shadow should have been. Her brother immediately faded from view, leaving Clara to think on her own once more.

Gritting her teeth to stop them from chattering, Clara began to reconsider her options once more. And she continued to reason with herself that she was in danger of dying anyway if she stayed out in the cold - no sleep and freezing temperatures equalled incapacitating fatigue and therefore no food, let alone escape.

'You're going to have to confront him if you go back down there. So the sooner the better!' she argued with herself as her stubborn feet refused to move. 'And if your agreement holds, then you can explore the subway further for a really good hideout! Very few people go down there so you'll be able to take all the time you want. There must be underground tunnel networks all over this city, what better way to navigate around without detection?'

She had to think fast, dawn was just around the corner and she could not risk being trapped if she made the wrong decision - the streets too dangerous for her to wander in broad daylight. She was still fearful though, if Croc had since decided their deal wasn't worth it then he might well kill her if they met again. But her need to get out of the cold got the better of her though.

Clara headed out.

She headed for the 'sky-light' she had used to escape the subway previously, the only other way down she knew was dangerously close to the Penguin's territory and she didn't want to have to take such a risk when sunrise was just around the corner.

Clara slipped underground, dropping the last bit of the way when she lost her balance on the rubble, landing heavily upon her feet.

The sound echoed loudly in the tunnel, and she paused for a moment to listen - but heard nothing more. Finding herself comfortably alone, Clara made a quick estimation on where she was in her head, and turned on her heel and walked away from where she had had her last run in with Croc - fearful that she might stumble across the remains of any meal he might have had since then.

She sought out a refuge. A rockfall made a good a place as any, where yet another cave-in had occurred and the ancient wall had eroded way to the earth and rusted piping behind it. She climbed up upon the mountain of bricks and broken concrete, manoeuvring around the cave-in until she found a little hollow behind a particularly large piece of rubble.

It was as uncomfortable as anything, pointy rocks and gritty concrete everywhere, but at least it was warmer than she knew it was above ground. She listened again for any intruders, then began to do her best to blend into the background, digging her shoes into the loose earth and strewing some of the finer gravel over herself, her face and hands already grey with accumulated dirt.

Somewhere above her, she knew the sun was now rising over the city. And somewhere not very far away, the regular people of Gotham were going about their normal lives as if nothing was wrong, while she was stuck in here feeling as if she were a million miles away. Clara was too exhausted to feel any self-pity right at that moment though, and promptly fell asleep.

She awoke to the sound of the shifting of gravel and stone. With alarm she realised that the debris she was lying on was moving, avalanching down towards the ground.

Flinging her arms out, she scrambled upwards, against the movement of the rubble. There was a sharp hiss of breath below her, and Clara whipped around to look down.

In her mind she cursed. Of course her luck had run out, oh why hadn't she just stuck with the tried and trusted manner of living through the day?! It had worked so far!

Right below her was Killer Croc, he had been in the process of pushing rubble out of the way to get to her. He had paused at her sudden movement.

'Still not dead?' he asked, and Clara saw fresh wounds upon his being, several scales had been ripped right out above his brow – in their place was congealed dark blood. There were also gashes across his chest which could have only been inflicted by bullet wounds – though none of them appeared to be very deep.

Her eyes darted back up the opposite direction of the tunnel, seeking out an escape route if need be. She felt herself slipping again as the rubble moved.

'Thought you had gone and died on the surface,' he growled. 'Or thought you had backed out of our deal - I've got your scent, I can find you wherever you hide.'

'H-hey, it's not like that. I thought you had food when I last left you, it's only been a little over a day. We never completed the terms!' she hastily defended herself. 'It'll be dark in a few hours, I'll bring you something tonight!'

Croc snarled, burying his hands back into the rubble and hurling chunks of it away, and Clara felt herself moving again with the avalanching rubble. She fought, scrambling to stay out of reach, but she had been taken by surprise and was exhausted.

She involuntarily squeaked when he finally got a grasp on her, but stopped struggling, fearful of making him angrier.

'I swear, I'll bring you someone tonight,' she said quickly, holding her hands out in front of her in a vain attempt to keep him at bay. 'Just please don't eat me!'

'You're still breathing, which means you're capable, but as for the matter of keeping your promises...' Croc appeared to be weighing up whether or not to kill her on the spot, she could feel the power of his grip and tried not to wince at the pressure over her injured side, she knew she needed to act fast.

'No, look, I have this plan! Just a bit further down the tunnel, near where we last met, there is a way out onto the surface. That's where I going to climb down tonight. I'm based not far from here at the moment, and Two-Face's territory is right on my doorstep, so there is always a lot of people around. All I need to do is be spotted, run down here, they'll inspect, and then you grab them instead of me,' she explained, smiling nervously. 'We have a deal, right?'

Croc didn't look convinced, though it was hard to tell - the scales upon his face obviously made more subtle human emotion harder to read. After a few moments though, she felt his grip loosen and she was able to slide free, falling several feet before landing awkwardly on one foot.

'Tonight, you bring me someone. To this place,' he told her. 'Otherwise the next time I catch you, and I will find you, I'll kill you.'

'Of course,' she nodded frantically. 'The first person I come across, I'll bring them down.'

'I'll be waiting.'

It was already dark outside again when she emerged.

Clara, feeling quite on edge after running into Killer Croc, did not act as she normally would have and instead of going back the way she had came had gone in the opposite direction, and now found herself emerging from the subway by a different method - the more traditional way: up a series of steps and through an exit that had a placard overhead though the writing on it was blurred and rusting.

As a result, she now had no idea where she was, and felt completely disoriented.

While searching for more familiar territory, she stumbled upon an old tire dump. And knowing she could never afford to miss an opportunity, Clara began to pick her way across it, searching for anything that might be useful - putting her dangerous mission on hold for a few minutes.

Clara reckoned she had a fairly good mind map of the part of the compound she frequented. She knew the routes the guards always took, she knew how far out Two-Face's patrols went when they weren't out on a mission and that their distribution was greatest on the side facing Penguin's territory. She didn't know much about the Penguin's gang's habits except that they rarely ventured far from their territory but when they did they normally moved en masse – Clara had seen a pack of around 30 of them once - the main benefactors of the food drops in the area after Two-Face.

Abruptly she lost her footing and struck her arm upon an outcrop of metal.

'Argh! Fff-!' she grit her teeth to prevent herself from making any more noise, besides the fresh pain in her arm she feared that her injury on her side had been knocked as well.

She could already tell there was going to be a bruise. And the pain seemed to be getting worse, even though it couldn't be. 'It's all in your head!' she repeated to herself. 'Blue skies and a gentle summer breeze, warm sunlight and -argh!' She shuffled backwards and braced against the tires, wishing she could bury herself under them, and tried to concentrate on her breathing.

But memories came to her nonetheless, and though they did not manifest in the real world they appeared before her mind's eye, and no manner of blinking would blur them away:

Her hearing was the first thing to return, she could hear hushed voices and the gentle rhythmic tapping of footsteps, but she made nothing of them because she was not fully awake. She smelt the sharp scent of disinfectant. Something touched her arm, and immediately she remembered the fear.

She sat up abruptly, eyes wide open to world that momentarily appeared as a blur of white and green but then resolved into a bright white hall, lined with beds. She didn't know where she was, she tried to stand but her arm was bound in some way, and it hurt to move.

'Easy, calm down,' said someone above, gently pushing her back down again. 'You're safe now.'

Clara's vision refocused and she saw her mother and father standing by her side.

She blinked and stared, trying to figure out what was going on. Her cheek stung, there was a large wedge of cotton wall plastered over it; the material tugging at her face whenever she moved. She didn't recognise where she was though she knew that it was a medical ward.

The mattress dipped as her mother sat down beside her, Clara saw her father moving to stand next to her now that she was awake.

'What happened?' Clara asked, unable to understand why she was in a hospital. Had she been in a car accident? She had only got her licence the year before but she didn't reckon she was that bad of a driver. For a moment she lay in a daze, trying to remember.

'They said you fell down a staircase,' her mother replied quietly. 'You've broken your left arm and bruised yourself quite badly in the fall. You'll be bed bound for a while but you're alive, and that's all that matters.'

And then without warning she was being hugged fiercely, her mother crying freely by her ear.

'It's good to see you alive, Clara,' her father said, obviously close to tears himself. 'We were so worried.'

'What happened?' she asked again, not recalling the stairs but now remembering Arkham Asylum. 'I was talking to Dereck...then one of the doctors said we were being gassed...'

'There was a major security breach at the asylum last night,' her father replied, then gestured at the wards. 'Most of the people in here are survivors from the same event. It was on the news and everything, but we weren't even aware of it until this morning when I turned the radio on at breakfast. We thought you were sleeping in, but then we saw your car was still missing and you were no where in sight. And we couldn't reach Dereck on the phone-'

'And even then we couldn't find you for hours, since Arkham was in such a state,' her mother cried. 'It was only because they didn't recognise you on the registry that they called for us to identify you. They found Dereck first, we were so worried they would never find you...'

'Excuse me, Miss Dawson?' a doctor with a clipboard interrupted, he stood smiling awkwardly at them from behind a pair of thick glasses. 'I am Dr. Bailey, I would like to run a quick psychological and health profile. I just need to make sure you are well enough to be checked out of the ward.'

'I can carry her to the car, if need be,' Clara's father said, stepping into the conversation. 'I would rather that she isn't stressed any more than need be.'

'I will skip straight to the point then,' Dr. Bailey nodded, and looked directly at Clara. 'Miss Dawson, you injuries are not dangerous, they will recover with time, you are one of the luckier ones. But I must ask you of the circumstances that you encountered before the incident, standard procedure for everyone we rescued off the island. Is this okay with you?'

Clara nodded slowly, trying to recall the nights' events a feeling of dread filled her but at that moment she couldn't remember why.

'Good. Alright, so it says here that you were interning on the island as part of the Medical degree you were taking at Gotham University. Yes, yes, your parents and Arkham staff have already informed us. Could you tell me exactly what happened that night? What were you doing so late at night in the Medical Facility? I understand that the agreement with the university only covered daylit hours, you should have left hours before.'

'I was...I was waiting in the staff room,' she responded slowly, frowning as her mind fought to recall any further memory. 'My older brother works there as a forensic psychologist, you see, he assesses new arrivals in Intensive Treatment. But his car had broken down, and he knew I was there, so I was supposed to be giving him a lift home. I was waiting in the staff room, but then a doctor said we were being gassed. I th-think we tried to get out...'

'Could you elaborate? Anything at all would help us. I used to work in Arkham, there are several potential sources of noxious gas in its facilities.'

Clara shuddered, wrapping her uninjured arm around her shoulders. 'One of the doctors, he said there were maggots in the airvent, he was scratching his arms trying to get rid of them.'

'And what happened then?'

'...I really don't know,' she replied uneasily. 'The office just suddenly gone, the roof was gone, and everyone was gone. But I wasn't alone, I started seeing these things, like monsters, all around me!'

'And then what happened?'

'My teeth fell out!' Clara cried remembering, immediately she raised her hand to her mouth, but to her relief and amazement she found this was not true. She still had teeth. And when she looked at her hands she still had nails, still had skin. Apart from the blood and grime beneath her nails, she looked no different than normal - but that wasn't what she remembered from only hours before. 'I was rotting, falling apart, everything was rotting! All around me...'

'Please, is this really necessary?' her father pleaded with the doctor, placing a hand upon Clara's shoulder.

'I am merely trying to gather the facts, Mr Dawson.' Dr. Bailey replied. 'I am now nearly certain that the event experienced by Miss Dawson was down to one particular patient who has been known to use a potent substance which he simply calls 'fear gas'. Your daughter will probably need intensive psychiatric therapy, the effects of this drug have been known to wreck havoc on the psyche. Arkham has lost several good doctors and patients to its effects, but the good news is that she has survived. Those that survive and then receive appropriate care have a good recovery record. Many have accidentally ended their own lives while under its influence, falling down those stairs and knocking yourself out probably saved your life.'

Clara suddenly recalled an image, a memory, of Dereck swinging a fire axe at one of the windows in the office as he tried to get out, but he lost his grip and it fell to the ground. For some reason this memory disturbed her enough to physically hurt her. It was then that she became acutely aware of the absence of her brother by her parents' side.

'Where is Dereck? Is he alright?!' she asked, straining her neck to see down the hall, perhaps Dereck was nearby and was just keeping his head down until he knew the doctor was done talking to her.

'…' Her mother inhaled deeply but said nothing. Her father frowned and looked to the ground.

'Clara, working at a place like that is dangerous, there will always be hazards. You know as well as anyone that we didn't want you interning there to begin with. Last night was an example of what can happen sometimes does happen,' he said to her slowly. 'A lot of people were injured or seriously hurt last night.'

'Where is he? Is he here? Is it bad?!'

'Rescue operations weren't able to make it in there for hours, the asylum was overrun, no one could get in or out. Communication was terrible at best...' he shook his head and clenched his fists, then raised his gaze to look sorrowfully at her. 'When they found him...well there was just nothing they could do. He...he didn't make it Clara.'

She felt as if the blood in her veins had turned to ice, her heart plummeted in her chest.

'H-how did he die?' she asked shakily, face blank.

'Clara, sweetie, please, we really don't need to talk about these things right now.' her mother pleaded.

'How did he die?! He was right next to me!' she screamed.

'The lunatics at the asylum beheaded him!' cried out her mother. 'Those animals beheaded my baby! Mine, my only son. My Dereck!'

Clara didn't reply. The memories began to come pouring back, memories of a terrible truth that partially contradicted what she had just heard. Blankly she stared ahead, but she could hear her pulse ringing in her ears once more, slowly getting louder and louder.

Conscious thought bubbled to the surface when she spotted something moving out of the corner of her eye. In her stupor she hadn't noticed the encroaching danger. She kicked out and scrambled to escape but they were already blocking her way, rough hands grabbed her arms and steel hard shoes kicked her legs out from under her. She would have fallen flat upon the ground if it were not for the man holding her arms behind her back. As she struggled, packing her legs beneath her in a futile attempt to launch herself free, a second man leaned in close to inspect her.

'Ah forget this, it's another freaking vagrant!' the man concluded after a few moments. 'This has to be like the third one already. You think Two-Face lets them wander around as a distraction or something? Or you reckon he's really that bad at pest control?'

'Who cares, an intruder is an intruder,' replied a third, surveying the street behind them. 'We get rid of him like the last one and return to patrol. Word is that Two-Face's guys have got their hands on a weapons crate, we need to be on alert.'

'I know that you-'

Clara struggled again, this time receiving a hard blow to the back of her head for her efforts. She saw stars and then she tasted the pavement, having been thrown forward.

'Let's get this over with,' one armed with a crow bar was bearing down on her.

'You reckon he's got any smokes on him? The boss is rationing them like crazy now,' said the one who had first grabbed her, inadvertedly getting in the way as he crouched at her side, hands reaching to search her pockets.

Clara cursed in her mind as her vision danced from the jarring blow but she could still make out the black and white symbols printed upon their clothing - the Penguin's gang - at least she now had some idea of where she was.

'Get out of the way!' commanded the crowbar wielder. 'I need to finish him off quickly before the sound draws any unwanted attention!'

Abruptly one of the other men who Clara hadn't been able to see clearly from where she was, leapt out and cracked the crowbar wielder across the forehead with a sharp upper cut. Her attacker stumbled from the blow, dropping his weapon and cradling his head, behind them the others seemed to be startled too at the unexpected attack. The man looking for cigarettes, fell away from her in surprise, scrambling to his feet.

'One-eye, what the hell?!'

Clara recognised her saviour as the strange near-blind man from before. Clara shook her head, and ignoring the dizziness that came with the motion of lurching to her feet, she spied out her environment and picked an escape route. No sooner had she tried to run though, than the one-eyed man was right behind her.

'Tony!' barked One-eye. 'Get back here!'

Abruptly his grip was around her upper arm, feeling near to being ripped from its socket; despite appearances the stranger was ridiculously strong. Still she fought to free herself, but One-eye just pulled her closer and locked a second hand around her shoulder, his rank breath practically in her hair.

'You're not running off again, Tony!' he yelled at her. 'Don't do it just to spite your old man again, I won't be tricked so easily every time.'

Clara froze in place, terrified as she tried to discern the insanity around her. Tony? Was he mistaking her for someone else?

'Eh, what's this? One-eye...?' one of the men started as he approached to investigate, while the fuming injured man glared from a safe distance.

The others began making their way over as well, talking amongst themselves.

'One-eye, who is this?' asked one, but in such a manner that Clara could tell he already thought he knew the answer.

'Why it's Tony, my son of course,' replied the one-eyed lunatic, turning to face them and slapping Clara proudly upon her shoulder but never letting go of her arm. 'You've met him before, haven't you? He helped us rob that store back in Bludhaven.'

'Yeah, I remember,' the man replied, but he didn't really sound like he did, and he was now looking at Clara suspiciously. 'Looks very young to be in here.' the man commented, leaning in closer to peer at her.

Clara immediately frowned and automatically tried to hide behind One-eye, she was now terrified of being identified as female, which would be a dead giveaway to the lie that One-eye currently believed. She lacked the facial hair or even the stubble that she had seen nearly all other prisoners here in the city had, she hoped it wasn't a dead giveaway...perhaps that was why they thought she looked so young. Clara immediately tried to think up an age that would explain her lack of facial hair, but One-eye beat her to it.

'He's 16, so yeah, on the young side. But mighty cunning and swift.' defended One-eye. 'He's in here for a reason, just like the rest of us, so don't underestimate him. You know that.'

The man shrugged his shoulders and looked away, then whispered to another man next to him: 'Just play along, he's done this before.'

One-eye apparently didn't hear him, his one murky eye was now focused solely on Clara, and he was smiling. 'You don't need to worry, lad, the Penguin's got a good set up, everyone's fed and pretty soon we'll own this city, no more running. I can look after you now.'

Then without warning, One-eye sharply cuffed her across the ear. Hard.

'Don't you ever hide behind me unless you're about to die, boy,' he whispered gruffly. 'It makes you look weak, and the Penguin don't like weak.'

Clara nodded mutely, not daring to move. Only one thought was going through her mind though: What the hell was going on?!

One-eye turned to others. 'Alright then, off we go, lads. We're done here, right?'

There was some angry muttering, the man with the crowbar looked as if he wanted to kill One-eye but apparently didn't dare in the presence of the rest of the patrol.

'It was a recon mission,' replied the largest of the men, broad shouldered and with a black-and-white mask hiding much of his face, presumably in charge of the patrol. 'We're done here, but One-eye I won't have you stirring up any more shit like you just pulled on Avery! You understand?!' Clara didn't miss his doubtful gaze in her direction, but One-eye appeared completely oblivious and his strange attitude was becoming more and more unnerving by the minute - and he still hadn't let go of her arm, so she couldn't run.

'Of course, sir, as long as he don't go starting none,' One-eye's reply nearly set off the man with the crowbar completely, but he stopped dead in his tracks when the big leader intervened; wordlessly aiming a shotgun his way in warning.

For a moment the big leader then glared over his shoulder at One-eye, as if daring him to make a stupid move, but the latter seemed to know he had said enough and didn't say anything further.

'Alright, let's clear out,' stated the leader eventually. 'The next patrol will be here in a moment, and we don't need to leave this place warm for them. Our friend Tony can come with us to the museum, but after that's it's the boss' decision.'

They made their way back towards the museum, Clara in unwilling tow.

She was considering trying to make a break for it again, but she wasn't sure if she had the strength though, the stress of the whole situation had exhausted her; her heart beating wildly in her chest.

As they travelled onwards, Clara noticed that the streets this side of town were not as dark as most were, some were actually illuminated with spotlights. It made it easier for her to see the Penguin's men wandering around nearby - and there were a lot of them!

By this point she knew that she couldn't back out, could no longer escape, the next few hours of her life would be her biggest gamble yet but one – she was now consciously realising – that could ultimately pay off; though the odds, of course, were not at all in her favour. If she was accepted in then the food problem would sort itself out, and then she might even be able to find out more about the walls and other escape routes through other people. At the same time though she couldn't help but wonder if they would simply kill her on the spot as soon as the strange one-eyed guy had finished his game or realised that she wasn't who he thought she was.

The most likely conclusion of tonight, she knew, was death - but then when wasn't it now?

They then passed in through the rather grand entrance to a museum, all around hung raggedy banners displaying the white and black symbol of the Penguin. In fact the symbol was posted pretty much everywhere, stamped upon the walls, the men's clothes and some even had it tattooed onto their skin - Clara felt very much out of place.

They headed indoors, past several display cabinets and sets of stairs, here several of the patrol branched off and went their own way. Clara though, was dragged along after the few that didn't, continuing down a flight of stairs before veering off through one of the many halls which opened up into a hall.

The hall was immense, there was a high ceiling supported by stone pillars and arches, and dotted about the place were several stuffed polar bears. In the centre of the room was a long table, a throng of people gathered around towards one end of it.

The place was awash with sound, some sort of celebration Clara gathered, she could hear the raucous laughter of someone at the head of the table but could not see them from where she was due to the gathering. There were other people than those at the table, scattered about the room carrying crates. Nearest to the door was a red and white deckchair, leaning in which was a man that looked half asleep, an assault rifle at his feet.

'Hey One-eye, there you are, ya crazy old coot! What took you?' shouted the man, swaying a little as he sat up abruptly, he gave a mock bow to the rest of their party and nearly fell out of his chair: 'And I missed you lousy slugs too, of course.'

'What the big racket about, Jim?' asked the leader. 'You been drinking?'

'It's that's funny Dr. Strange guy, he's just given the boss a big shipment of ammunitions. Can you believe it?' Jim reeled a little, gave up on sitting straight and flopped back into the tatty deckchair, and slurred: 'You slugs all missed it, while you were out on patrol, flippers has been throwing a party. Drinks for everyone!'

'Ah, get back to your job, Jimmy,' replied the leader, losing interest and moving off towards the head of the table, leaving the rest of the group to stay where they were.

Jim apparently didn't hear him, and was currently fumbling with a packet of cigarettes. After a moment he turned to a man sitting beside him on pile of crates. 'You got a light? I'm all out of matches.' But his friend, a man with a shock of black hair and a hooked nose was looking intently at Clara.

'Is this one going to fight in the pits? You gotta be kidding me,' the man cackled. 'Way too scrawny, what were you thinking?'

Clara forced herself to hold her head high this time, but she could not bring herself to look the stranger in the eye, with every second that passed she was becoming more and more convinced that she was going to die.

'You watch your mouth, Frankie, this is my boy Tony. He's still got growing to do, and hasn't been eating too well recently, he fill out soon enough,' One-eye defended.

'Your boy, I thought he died ages a-' Frankie stopped midsentence as Jim - apparently experiencing a moment of lucidity - whacked him sharply on the elbow, shaking his head. Jim, the guard in the deckchair, then turned to face One-eye himself.

'You do remember the pit fights, right?' he asked a little groggily. 'The Penguin isn't just taking in anyone anymore, not since that Lester Kurtz bailed on us. You realise that they will make "Tony" fight to the death? Maybe take him back where you found him,' he suggested, almost gently, but Clara could tell by the many suspicious eyes of the others that were now upon her that any kindness present in the suggestion was not meant for her.

'Tony isn't going anywhere, I only just found him again,' One-eye replied curtly, then said to her: 'You'll fight in the pits, won't you my boy?'

'I-I'm half starved, how can I be expected to compete,' she weakly tried to excuse herself, keeping her voice as deep as she could - it was the first time she had spoken in their presence and she could only hope that it wasn't a dead give away.

'And so will be most of those trying out for a place,' replied Frankie, his sunken sallow face splitting into an eerie grin. 'Fair is fair.'

'Yeah, even if you're a bit short,' added Jimmy laughing, apparently comparing Clara's height to Frankie's who stood at least a head taller than everyone else present, then stopped abruptly with a yell when something loudly cracked across the back of his head.

'A little short, 'ey? And who would ya happen to be talking about, Jimmy old boy?' asked a snarling heavily accented voice.

Everyone behind Clara abruptly stood to attention, she quickly copied them before she even understood what was going on.

In front of them stood a short, balding man with his hands resting upon the end of an umbrella. Clara did a double take when she noticed what first appeared to be a monocle was actually the end of a glass bottle portruding out of the man's left eye-socket. She immediate realised that the person standing before her had to be none other than the Penguin himself, crime-lord and one of the most dangerous people in the whole of Arkham City. Somehow, Clara felt herself growing even more terrified.

'Nobody sir, I was just saying I don't think this newcomer is going to make it,' squeaked Jim, hands raised above his head defensively, eyeing the end of the umbrella his boss had just struck him with wearily.

The Penguin sneered and looked over at them. Behind him stood two bodyguards, and the leader of the patrol she had just been caught by. To her surprise there was also a woman, wearing a pinstripe suit, a secretary of some sort she assumed.

'Oh, you're still alive,' the Penguin drawled upon catching sight One-eye. 'There was rumours you had croaked.'

'I'm still here sir, and I bring with me a volunteer,' One-eye replied, smiling uneasily, slapping one hand down upon Clara's shoulder.

'I already wrote you off,' Penguin muttered rather loudly, ignoring him, and then he gestured for the secretary to write something down. He then turned to Clara who was struggling not to shake, she wasn't sure that she wasn't though. 'And who the bloody hell are you then?'

'Tony, they call me Tony,' she managed to grit out. 'I transferred from Mercy's Psychiatric Ward.'

Several people chuckled around her, and Clara wondered what she had said wrong.

'Ya know, most newcomers normally say they are from Blackgate or Arkham Penitentary, whether they actually are or not,' said Penguin, grinning nastily behind his cigar. 'But I have to admit I like your honesty, even if in doing so you revealed ya might be a liability. So what did they have you in for? You a nasty or a nutcase?'

'I knocked the teeth out of some guy's head, they said I didn't know what I was doing, but I did. So I got put in the madhouse,' Clara made up on the spot, she was surprised by the calmness in her voice for her heart felt like it wanted to leap out of her chest.

'Anger issues, eh? Well rest assured if you act like that around here, the disciplining with be a lot harsher that what you've experienced and-hang on,' The Penguin paused to look between Clara and One-eye. 'Did ya says you name was Tony? Aw shite, not another one.'

Clara looked uneasily up at One-eye and then looked to the others, trying to make out what was going on.

'You know, One-eye, you always gets yourself in a right proper mess,' the Penguin said, almost disbelievingly. 'It's going to be the end of ya one day, and I can't say that I'm not looking forward to it. Now get out of here, I want to have a word here with 'Tony'.'

'But-' One-eye began, but when one of Penguin's bodyguard stepped out and fixed him with a glare he quickly backed down. 'Alright, I'll be in the mess hall, see you later Tony.'

The Penguin turned back to her immediately. 'Alright then, spit it out. What are you doing here?' he barked.

'I just wanted to join, my father said-'

'He's not your father, you and I both know that,' the Penguin concluded, shoving her with the end of his umbrella roughly, his bodyguards loomed over her. 'You're not the first 'Tony' he has brought back with him from the streets, though the first in Arkham City so far. The real Tony got run over many years ago during a heist. Old One-eye's not right in the head, he didn't start out as one but he is crazy now and is beginning to become a right pain in the arse.'

'My name is Tony,' Clara replied boldly. 'And I am from Mercy's psychiatric ward, perhaps I am not related to One-eye, but I'm hard working and would make a good employee. Turning me away would be turning down a great opportunity.'

The others laughed, but Clara kept her head held high - as she knew her life depended on the next few moments going smoothly.

'Very brazen, ain't cha?' the Penguin stated, then chuckled and struck her in the stomach with the end of his umbrella strong enough to knock the breath from her body, but she managed to stay standing tall. 'I admire that, but I don't think it's a desired quality in this trade. I can tell just by looking at you that you'd come off worse in a fight against any of my boys. I need strong men, one's I can rely on. So tell me, if not muscle, what can you offer? I need smart and strong, but not too smart, heheheh!'

'I'm quiet and quick, I can scout out ahead of patrols and report back without being seen,' she said and then added, bluffing quickly. 'I know my way around Two-Face's territory like the back of my hand.'

'What about the Joker's?'

'I learn fast. And best of all,' she added, realising in that moment that she was sealing her fate whether for good or for worse. 'I'm disposable. If I die then you don't lose a thing.'

'Hah, I like your way of thinking, Tony. You're in. So what do you say? You say yes, of course!' he told her and then turned away.

'Okay boys, we will humour our old pal One-eye one last time.'

A/N: Personally I'm not 100% happy with this chapter at the moment, but since I've already written up to the 11th chapter (draft only, not spell checked or anything) in this direction it's the way it's going to stay. Originally Clara joined the Penguin's gang as soon as the 2nd chapter but I decided I had to expand upon the time before this so that when she met Killer Croc later on she wouldn't be instantly killed.

Quick summary of this chapter:

Clara slips below ground seeking shelter as above ground its beginning to get too cold as winter moves closer. She sleeps for a mere few hours before Killer Croc finds her again. He is a little angry as he is suspicious that she deliberately lied that last time they met to escape, but she manages to convince him that she'll fulfil her end of the deal that night. Croc lets her go for now.

Having become disorientated while underground, Clara emerges to find that she isn't certain where she actually is. While trying to figure out where she is, Clara slips and hits her arm. The pain is familiar to when she broke her arm the year before and she experiences a flashback to when she was in hospital immediately following the Arkham Asylum breakout. It is revealed that she was an intern at the Medical Facility on the island as a result of summer placement - as part of the Gotham University's Medical degree program - and that on the night of the break out she was exposed to fear toxin. While under its influence she fell down a staircase, broke her arm and knocked herself unconscious, but in the meantime her brother was killed.

Back in the present, Clara realises that she has run straight into one of Penguin's patrols. Initially they are going to kill her but then the strange one-eyed man from before defends her, convinced she is someone called Tony - it soon becomes apparent that Tony is the name of the man's son who was killed in a vehicle related incident several years before, and he appears to be quite delusional. To save herself, Clara decides to play along.

She is more or less forced to return to the Penguin's headquarters by One-eye. There fortunately enough, the Penguin seems to be in a good mood and is on good terms with One-eye, he decides to humour his old colleague and allows Clara to stay on as Tony - but hints that she is not the first 'Tony', and that none of them have ever lasted very long.