Chapter 6

Decisions

So she had two options, Clara told herself.

Her first option...well she had the option to run now, with no one watching her they would never know what had happened to her. Sure, she would never be able to go back, and would be right back where she started, but hey, at least she wouldn't have to face Killer Croc – and thus stand a slightly more marginal chance of surviving the next 24 hours.

Her second option would be to actually do what she had been told – though she knew that it was very likely that Killer Croc would just kill her as soon as he saw her, as he would no doubt be furious for her lying to him. She hadn't meant to lie, but that was just the way things had turned out, it wasn't like she could just wander off on her own anymore, not without permission. If she had tried they might had labeled her a traitor, trying to sell information onto one of the other big three, and shot her before she had a chance to explain herself - none of them really wanted her around, they seemed to think it was a personal insult that she had been allowed in so easily.

Professionalism in Penguin's gang meant not poking your nose into other people's business, unless it was that of an enemy, most notably Joker with whom Penguin had an ongoing feud that already spanned several years. All the same though, even if this hadn't been the case Clara doubted she would have been any more talkative with the others.

She wouldn't have known what to say to them, words drying up in her mouth before she speak. Dereck had temporarily stopped showing up, he hadn't appeared to her since her unintentional initiation into the gang, but supposedly this was actually for the better. Dereck generally only appeared when she was undistracted and completely alone, and it really wasn't healthy for her to talk to him when he did.

Pausing to adjust the heavy pack on her back as she got closer to her destination, Clara once more began to think about her options. Even if she were to do option 1, running away, she needed to exit on the Joker's side as she would be spotted too easily exiting the way by the museum, she had no idea how she was going to be able to get back over the guarded bridge though, the only way on and off of the Joker's part of the city, but she would have to try.

That was if she didn't run into Croc by accident anyway. She could quite clearly remember all her encounters with him, near misses on her life, his predatory and inhuman manner, and then there was the fresh paint of witnessing said cannibal bursting through the wall just mere hours before. Roaring like a beast, all claws and fangs, reaching to sink into the nearest warm body. Was there any way she might be able to avoid his wrath?

Clara considered lying again, and claiming that she had brought the Penguin's men past Croc earlier deliberately - but she didn't reckon it sounded very believable, and knew that even if Croc did believe it he still wouldn't be happy with the delivery being around a week late.

When she finally got back to the site where Croc had burst through the wall hours earlier, the place was deserted. There was no sign of the Joker's crew or Croc, not even the body of the man who had been crushed below the rubble – though as to which of the two formers had taken it was up to debate, she knew that Croc had not come out on top in the firefight following his appearance, the sound of gunfire had carried on too long for that.

She did not dare get any closer to the hole in the wall than need be, but she could large empty space behind it with water running adjacent to the tunnel, apparently the way he had come in and probably gone out. Now that she was here it seemed ridiculous that she would ever consider any option other than option 1. Running had worked so far, maybe it would work again.

Her nervous mind began drawing her a fevered dream of what she would do next. Find an abandoned building, one that was near nothing useful so that it was less likely anyone might stumble across her. She had sneaked a peak at the Penguin's maps more than once, she knew that just to the north of Joker's territory there was a large patch of unclaimed land up for grabs - more or less, it was very unlikely that there wasn't anyone else there - surely to be more deserted than what she was used to, if she could get over the heavily guarded bridge between the two districts...

Then there was a splash as something moved in the water behind the broken wall.

Run or stay? Clara bit her lip and forced herself to stay where she was, it wouldn't help anyone, including herself, if she was caught running.

Someone had come back, someone on their own. It was too good to be true, so he suspected a trap.

So he was cautious, quiet as he could be. He rose half out of the water, clutching the rubble to pull himself upwards. His arms and chest stung worse as soon as they were exposed to the air, his earlier attack had not been well thought out - now his hide was torn up, they had tried to shoot him down, a fresh new gash had missed his left eye by millimetres.

He wasn't sure who he was expecting it to be, perhaps someone from the Penguin's coming to collect the bodies - fat chance of that though, Joker's lot had taken everything, he knew this because he had tried to come back when everyone was gone. He was almost certain they had done it on purpose, they wanted him dead just as much as everyone else did.

But least of all people he expected to see was the wide eyed little rat that he had narrowly missed eating three times before.

He bunched up his arms and pulled himself out of the water, prepared to give chase as soon as she turned to run.

Only she didn't run, she waited.

Terrified as she had been every time before that he had seen her, she stared up at him with wide eyes, knees knocking together and arms crossed defensively, but there was purpose to the way she remained. She wasn't petrified with fear, she was remaining there by choice, her chin raised in a poor attempt to mimic confidence.

She looked no better off than before though, ashen faced and underweight. The oversized puffer jacket she wore hid the worst of her malnourishment - but he knew from when he had last had her in his grasp that beneath the thick material there was little more than bone. He could also smell blood, but it didn't smell human, and it was then that he noticed she was carrying something on her back, something heavy that made her stand awkwardly as she waited.

As he stepped out from the wall into the tunnel, she stumbled back a few feet before managing to recompose herself.

'I brought you something,' she said hurriedly, swinging a heavy bag from over her shoulder, it that thudded heavily to the ground in front of her. On closer inspection it was something wrapped in a blanket, and it smelt very familiar, reminded him of being imprisoned alone in the disused sewer network of Arkham Asylum.

When she pulled back the wrappings he was proved right, it was half the carcass of some sort of animal, like what they had used to feet him.

'It's got greater street value here than erm...regular meat...so erm, enjoy,' she said, stepping back.

He expected her to run then, but still she stuck around. For now he ignored her in favour of the fresh meat, except it wasn't fresh it was nearly frozen solid. He really hadn't come across any meat like this since he before he had escaped Arkham Asylum, where had she stolen it from?

It didn't matter though, he wasn't happy. She had lied.

Before she could remember why she shouldn't be there, he grabbed hold of her and held her so that her face was only inches from his. He would not be treated like an idiot!

'I-I got hold up, okay?' she bleated pathetically. 'The Penguin's gang, I ran into an ambush and-'

He growled and she fell silent. But then his eyes fell back on the food she had brought. She hadn't completely lied, most people wouldn't have come back at all, the whole situation seemed strange to him.

'I was beginning to think you had gone and died,' he said, picking up the frozen carcass with his other hand. 'But you're here now...'

He really was surprised, after she hadn't turned up before he had really not expected her to come back at all. He had no idea what to think and he really didn't like it when he didn't understand what was going on. Immediately he was suspicious, was this a trap? Was the meat poisoned? How was she trying to use him?

'I can get you more,' she whined, struggling feebly. 'If that's what you want, I can get you more.'

'Where did you get this?' he growled, he shook both the carcass and the woman in his hands at once.

'The Penguin's kitchens,' she said quickly, the forced confidence was gone. He could see her searching for an escape route, little hands tense upon his arm as if readying to spring away. Or was she looking around for backup? An ambush he hadn't spotted?!

Croc quickly surveyed the area around them, raising his head to breathe in deeply, taking in scents to reveal to him what his eyes wouldn't show him. He could still smell gunpowder from the Joker's gang's guns from earlier, he could smell the damp in where the concrete was eroding away in the tunnels, but most pungent of all was the fear of the struggling woman beside him. But they were alone, there was no one waiting nearby to spring a trap.

'I did what you asked,' she begged.

And she had, more or less. He snarled and then abruptly dropped her, she had kept her word and he always kept his.

She landed on her feet, stumbling backwards, staring up at him with wide nervous eyes. He fixed her with a warning glare, then he sat down upon the ground with a heavy thump. He tore into the carcass she had brought without any further regard, starving, he ignored her; fully expecting to hear the sound of her running away.

But she didn't.

After several moments had passed though, he noticed she was still there. He watched her out of the corner of his eyes though, suspicious. He thought he would catch her staring, giving him an excuse to end their deal early, but she was facing completely the opposite direction, wringing her hands nervously and her gaze focused on the ground. She didn't want to be there, that much was obvious, but she still wasn't leaving.

He was still suspicious, he didn't like it when he didn't know what was going on, it always meant something bad. She didn't say anything and he didn't ask, he wasn't obliged to and he didn't want her around anymore than she did him. So he carried on eating, but kept a close eye on her.

She was an odd little thing, he concluded after watching her for a few further minutes, if he hadn't been who he was he would not have been able to tell that she was woman, but nor did she look quite like a man or even a child, too thin and grubby to be much more than a breathing corpse. Yes, a living corpse, that was what she looked like.

Then finally she moved, turning back around to face him.

'I need to ask you something.' she started, obviously waiting to gauge his reaction.

'What?' he growled, and was satisfied to see her jump back a step further.

'Areyoulookingforemployment?' she blurted.

He didn't understand a word, and she seemed to understand this after a moment of him staring at her incomprehensibly because she repeated back the sentence.

'The Penguin would like to hire you,' she said slightly more slowly, though it still sounded as if she was trying to make the sentence into a word.

'The Penguin?' he questioned, taken aback. He looked her over again, and it was only now that he saw the familiar white symbols painted onto her jacket. She had gotten into that gang? He found he didn't care how. 'Was he want?'

'He wishes for you to consider working for him,' she managed to say. 'There would be food, lots more food! And, whatever else you want!'

This was a surprise, was someone really seeking to hire him? After all these years? Unless this was a trap...

'I don't trust the Penguin,' he eventually hissed. 'I've already caught several of his boys since moving down here. Though they don't come down here so much anymore. Not alone anyway.'

'He sent me to recruit you, I can ask them if I can bring more food, would that change your mind?' she asked, wide eyes darting in every direction but his own.

He took his time in answering, flicking a few odd bones aside as he continued his meal, leaving her to stand there waiting for his reply. She seemed sincere, frightened for her own life anyway. And then he realised the connection; she hadn't come down here voluntarily, she had been sent down.

Abruptly he chuckled. 'If you return without me, they'll kill you, won't they, little rat?'

She didn't immediately answer, her expression said everything for her though.

'...Th-that is irrelevant,' she stuttered. 'Will you consider the Penguin's proposal? He is seeking all the power he can get, you'll be rewarded.'

'Your words don't do you any favours, rat,' Croc continued, now fully disregarding the crushed bony remnants of his meal. 'I know of Penguin's collection, and I'm not going to end up shot and stuffed in a trophy case.'

'I'm sure you wouldn't-'

'And I'm always hungry,' he was now crouched, as if about to pounce, and to his amusement she stumbled back a few further steps. 'A little man in makeup told me to eat any "birds" I might find down here.'

'You already work for the Joker?' she asked uneasily. 'I'm sure the Penguin can offer you a better deal...'

Croc was pretty sure anyone could strike a better deal than the Joker could. And like most deals Croc had made, it had fallen through, the gang had not kept their side of the bargain - they were supposed to stay out of the subway, but they still passed through, and they were always armed. And it hadn't helped that the deal hadn't been struck with the head honcho either, but some one-armed henchmen who had spoken of being part of a carnival - he had been taken aback at being talked to as an equal, and made a choice without thinking it through.

But it hadn't meant nothing, and it didn't mean anything now. They had not kept their word and he certainly wasn't going to keep his, especially not if there was a better deal up for grabs. But what were the hidden costs? Nothing ever came easy. He had nothing to lose but his own life, and he wasn't so willing to gamble with that. Everyone either wanted to use him or wanted him dead, and he had no certain way of knowing which of these two options the Penguin was considering.

'There's food...' she offered weakly again, eyeing him warily as she waited for a reply.

'And what sort of deal do you have, if you are so disposable that they send you down here alone?' he replied, mulling over his own predicament. 'Been looking for you for days, then suddenly you come straight to me. They sent you to die.'

'I'm not worth as much as you,' she said quickly, she was trying to maintain eye contact with him but her nerves were getting the better of her, annoying him further. 'You're much more valuable, that is why the Penguin wants you to work for him. There is food and shelter, and I'm sure that most people who join up are paid fairly.'

By her tone it was clear that she either was paid very little or not paid anything at all.

He was not going to make sure a hasty decision this time, not until he had had time to think over it. This was a big decision, it would mean that he would no longer have to scrounge a living, hiding in the sewers. But to go above ground when for all he knew there were snipers waiting on the roof for him. This would be a big change, and he didn't like change but change was inevitable.

'Please! I promise the deal is genuine,' wide eyed the woman was looking up at him now, apparently taking his silence as a 'no'. 'The Joker tricked a patrol this night, people died, the Penguin wants to replace them!'

'I'm going to think about it,' he growled, narrowing his eyes, and she scrambled back another step at his tone.

'I'll pass on the message,' she said quietly, and finally she turned to go back up the tunnel, leaving him alone to pick at the bones of his meal as she broke into a run.

She ran all the way back, not looking back for fear that Killer Croc would have changed his mind and had decided that she would be on the menu that night.

When she emerged from the underground she realised she was not actually sure where she was, having relied on others more familiar with this side of town to find her way here before. She knew the Pinkney Museum wasn't far, less than five minutes walk, but as she looked around for landmarks she found nothing but featureless blocks of flats.

In front of her she could see Arkham City's outer wall and it curved outwards, so she knew she had to be somewhere along the perimeter facing Gotham. After the series of frightening events she had encountered that night, Clara really didn't think there was anything more that could frighten her. She actually felt kind of numb; it was only instinct that drove her not run around yelling until she found her way back to the museum.

She listened carefully, she couldn't hear anyone nearby, but she had noticed that when on patrol or guard duty – working in any form outside the hideout really – Penguin's men were generally eerily quiet, at least compared to most of the other inmates she had run across so far. Abruptly she was struck with the idea that Penguin's snipers might even be above her, and mistake her for an intruder – shooting first, asking questions later.

Quite deliberately she stood straighter and pulled her shoulders back, hoping that it would make the symbols upon the jacket more visible. She found herself wishing that the symbols would have been painted larger and on her back as well; she didn't have the traditional get-up of the rest, the Penguin - nor anyone else for that matter - had never deemed her worthy enough to even suggest anything, she still wore what she had worn since before she had joined, right down to the bandaging around her chest that now served no purpose other than to maintain her disguise.

She wandered hopelessly for a while, wondering if perhaps she should just take her chances and run for it. Her hideout under the old house was probably still there, as were the goods she had buried, but the cold and the uncertainty of going hungry would also certainly be there too.

It was early November now, she had yet to see any snow but the icy winds were promise enough of a harsh winter to come. There was a very real possibility that if she did go solo again that one night she would simply fall asleep and not wake up again, frozen in time in a crawlspace until the spring came and the ice melted.

Yep, that didn't sound like a very attractive prospect.

There was a sharp tap of metal against metal behind her. Clara froze, then looked back in the direction of the sound, fearing that Croc had gone back on his decision of letting her go and decided to give chase after all.

But it wasn't Croc.

She could just pick out a shape in the darkness of the empty street.

A thin, lithe man was arched up against the wall, blending nearly seamlessly with the shadows. No hat and no hair, and of the clothing she could pick out a faint red or perhaps brown, but couldn't be certain for the lighting.

But that didn't matter, immediately she could tell he was not one of Penguin's, and she could see the glint of metal within one of his hands. She knew she was in trouble.

All this happened in a matter of a few milliseconds though, for the moment her stalker knew that she knew he was there, he launched himself at her.

But hours of running, hiding and avoiding trouble paid off, and Clara leapt out of his reach in time. Behind her the man let out a hysterical wail of aggravation.

'Come back, little piggy!' the man shouted. 'You must understand that your time has come!'

Pig, rat, Tony or scum, Clara really couldn't care. She ran for her life.

But the man was persistent, though Clara didn't dare look back she could hear him close behind her, breathing raggedly.

Then she slipped. One of her oversized shoes, stolen and therefore not really meant to be her size anyway, came loose on her foot and she lost her balanced.

Cold unforgiving hands grabbed at her, yanking her backwards then slamming her to the ground, knocking the air from her lungs. The maniac crouched over her, and in the faint moonlight Clara caught sight of criss-crossing patches of scars upon his skin. She almost couldn't believe it, didn't want to. It was the mass murderer, Victor Zsasz. This scenario seemed almost so unlikely that she would have been laughing if it wasn't serious.

'Look!' he said quite jubilantly, pointing at one of his shoulders, as if nothing was wrong. 'This is where I shall place your mark, the third one gathered since the last full moon.'

Inside, part of the old Clara was sobbing and crying at the sudden inevitability of her death. But old Clara would not have survived 5 minutes in Arkham City, and she didn't plan on dying tonight.

Without a further thought, she gathered every ounce of her desperate strength, and squarely punched Zsasz in the side of his face, abusing her medical knowledge and going straight for the weakest point of his skull.

It was not enough to throw him off, but enough to knock him back and make him lose his balance, and it provided her enough room to execute her next manoeuvre, kicking him straight in the chin. But once again he didn't fall, he simply staggered.

'Do not fight it, for I am your only saviour!' he shouted excitedly, and Clara was somewhat satisfied to see blood between his teeth. 'I will save you!'

'Save yourself!' she spat viciously at him, prepared to fight to the death if it meant even the smallest chance of her escaping.

But there was a great shadow rising behind him, which Clara immediately recognised. She found she wasn't sure if things were about to take a turn for the better or the worse.

Sensing they were not alone, Zsasz looked back over his shoulder. The next moment he was some ten feet up in the air and screaming in terror.

A/N: I cut this chapter in half, it was originally longer. I can't help but wonder if I should be making all the chapters shorter, I write fanfiction as practice for creative writing so I'm used to writing long chapters :S

Quick summary of this chapter:

Clara continues her journey to find Croc and recruit him for the Penguin. Managing to keep him at bay by offering of the frozen carcass she brought from the kitchens, she manages to talk to him. Croc is, as ever, suspicious, and doesn't want to be forced into making a decision. Clara reluctantly begins to head back, hoping that the message that Croc is considering his options will be enough for the Penguin.

On the way back she is ambushed by Zsasz, but at the last moment, Croc steps in.