Chapter 7

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Zsasz was thrown like a sack of flour, limbs flailing everywhere. When he struck the wall he went silent, slumping to the ground, limp as a rag-doll.

He was no longer her biggest priority though, from where she lay on the concrete pavement, Killer Croc's massive form seemed to fill up the night sky.

She found she didn't have the strength in her right at that moment to get to her feet, instead she cowered where she lay. But he wasn't moving to attack her, but nor was he paying any attention to Zsasz's unconscious form.

He had just saved her life. Inadvertent or not, she didn't know, but she found she hadn't felt so grateful to anyone in a long time. And without meaning to, she smiled.

She was there, and her eyes were wide open, but she wasn't moving. And for a moment he thought he had somehow killed her; he could remember that sometimes those that died suddenly sometimes died eyes wide open, like after an explosion. He shook his head to rid himself of his darker memories, and reminded himself that this was not the same situation, she was not dead; he could freaking hear her breathing, and she had propped herself up on her elbows.

He couldn't smell any blood, other than that of the man he had thrown to one side, so she wasn't injured. She was simply wasting his time, and she was staring. He didn't like it when people stared. He already felt uncomfortable enough being out in the open, he wasn't going to put up with anymore shit like this. Before he could say anything though, she smiled, and he was taken aback. It had been a very long time since anyone had smiled genuinely at him. But he shrugged this thought off like he did the cold, without another thought.

'I changed my mind,' he told her gruffly, and hoped she was actually listening. 'I'm coming now.'

'Oh. That's good,' she squeaked, as quickly as the smile had appeared it had vanished. She scrambled to her feet, keeping her eyes on him. '...Well, I guess if you follow me, we'll go straight to the Iceberg Lounge.'

She looked as if she might run, he quickly grabbed hold of the back of her jacket, yanking her back towards him. She was so light her feet left the ground.

'You're sticking with me, I'm not going to get shot coz they think I'm attacking or summin',' he growled.

'Of course not,' she replied quickly. 'If I go back without you I'll be in trouble anyway.'

He glanced at the unconscious form of the man lying nearby, habit demanding that he didn't let a chance like this go to waste, but he knew that now was not the time for eating. The scrawny woman was trying to discretely pull herself free, but he wasn't paying any attention to her, he had just noticed they had other company. It was the girl's fault really that he hadn't noticed earlier, so scared that she made it hard for him to smell anything else. No doubt these newcomers had been drawn by the racket that had been going on moments earlier.

The girl had also seen them, but she seemed just as frightened at before, even though they were clearly from the Penguin's gang. Unexpectedly he noticed that she was trying to feign confidence again. Despite his grip on her she had squared her shoulders, and had raised her chin high - but it was all an act, she was terrified. There was six of them, three of which were armed, but even they looked nervous when they realised who they were dealing with, and they kept their distance.

He knew immediately something was wrong, they were being encircled. He growled in warning and heard three guns being cocked in response. They were going to shoot him

'Stop!' the girl said, and her voice was altered, tone different. She stood tall and tugged on the front of her jacket so that the symbols of her alliance painted there could be seen more easily. 'It's me, Tony. I'm supposed to be bringing Killer Croc to the boss.'

'Tony? I thought the Penguin threw you in the lake,' replied one, looking uneasily up at Croc. The rest of the group was milling around as well, looking uncomfortably between themselves, one or two talking in low voices. Croc glared, though he doubted they could tell, it had been a long time since he could do anything but glare - his thick skin having fused his face into a permanent scowl.

'So, I guess, you'll need to follow us,' one said cautiously.

'Yeah, whatever, I already know the way back,' continued the girl (Tony?). 'I do my work properly, don't go stealing my glory.'

'Glory? What glory, I don't think you were actually expected to...' the man trailed off, looking up at Croc again. 'Come on then, no point standing around here all night. Ey, is that Zsasz?'

Several of them, though none ever taking their eyes off of Croc for more than a few seconds, moved around to look at the unconscious man. Zsasz was slowly regaining consciousness.

'No!' wailed Zsasz, seeing too late that he was surrounded. 'You will not hinder my work!'

'What we got here? A bit out of your jurisdiction, ain't you, Zsasz?' asked one of Penguin's patrol. 'The boss will want to see you for that, you know.'

Croc lost interest, they were not looking at him anymore, and he was not afraid of Zsasz. Instead he looked to the scrappy girl, who unlike him was very much fixated on the struggle nearby.

'Your name's Tony?' he asked, more wanting to check that he had heard right rather than know the answer.

Her wide eyes darted up to look at him, and he saw her rolling her shoulders in an attempt to look unaffected by the situation.

'Yeah, I am Tony,' but despite the very good mockery of confidence she was putting on, she would not look at him directly. Croc, for all his ability, could not smell deceit or lies themselves, but he knew when somebody was up to something. Everyone was always up to something, it was like some sort of game, like gambling, you had to be able to read what your opponents were thinking; and Croc wasn't very good at reading people, but most of the time he didn't need to, he already knew they all strived for his destruction.

No, but this was different, he thought, she was up to something else. A different voice, different way of talking, different body language - much more forced, abrupt, heavy - it didn't make any sense. Unless, yes of course! She was pretending to be someone else. Croc knew there were not many women in Arkham city, they didn't last very long, and those that did were the likes of Poison Ivy and the psycho Harley Quinn, tough as nails and with distinct vantage points such high rank in the Joker's army. The little rat had neither, so she was parading around as someone else.

Not that he cared, it didn't effect him in the slightest. Though in some far distant corner of his mind, he felt some tiny twinge of empathy - at the fact that he knew what it was like to not be able to fit in. But at this thought he suddenly became angry, while some could play pretend to fit in, he knew that no matter what he did he could not do the same.

'You cannot do this to me! I will have my mark!' Zsasz was shouting as he was manhandled, arms tied behind his back, head bent forth as one particularly big thug maintained a grip around the base of his neck.

'We got a live one here, the boss will be pleased.'

They were pretending to be focused on Zsasz, but he could see them casting nervous glances his way again, too scared to say anything. Croc glared back. He didn't have to like them, or even pretend not to hate the very flesh on their bones, it was the Penguin he was dealing with now, not them. And if they dared do or say anything stupid to him, hired muscle or not, he would make them regret it.

'Good work, Tony!' one tried to laugh, but the sound quickly petered out. 'Let's get going.'

They said nothing to him, though he could hear them muttering between themselves, and saw them looking back to keep an eye on him. Though Zsasz struggled fiercely, they were more afraid of him. Croc tried to remember back to the days when he had worked in a team before, it had been some time ago now, but he had done it before and he could do it again. All he had to do was tolerate them, nothing more and nothing less.

Survival, that was what he needed to focus on. Survive and live to see another day.

He looked down in surprise when he felt a small tug on one of his arms.

'Erm...Croc?' she was still standing beside him, and it was only then that he realised he still hadn't let go of the back of her jacket.

He let go of her as if he'd been burnt.

Clara breathed a sigh of relief as Croc followed after the others without a further word. She was so tired from the night's events that she felt as if she could quite happily fall asleep on the pavement and not give a damn about the gathering cold of winter. Slowly she trudged after the lot, but as she began to fall behind she found she had to force herself to run to catch up with them.

The patrol headed straight back to the museum, talking amongst themselves and sometimes speaking quite deliberately over whatever Zsasz had to say, laughing at his expense. But the atmosphere was tense. Croc, towering over everyone, said nothing anyone and they said nothing to him, but there was a distinct amount of glancing backwards going on, and Clara was beginning to worry - what with having apparently been in an asylum and all - whether or not Killer Croc might simply flip out and kill the lot of them.

Clara kept her distance from both threats, the patrol and Croc, straying to one side so that she could discretely watch both out of the corner of her eye. To her surprise though she found one of the men slowing down to walk beside her. He was one of many in the gang she had never spoken to before, she had seen him lurking at the corners of the museum with nine others who didn't seem to mingle much with the rest, she knew he had some sort of hispanic name but couldn't recall it at that moment.

'Hey, you're that new street-rat right?' the man asked her, and she noted his slight accent. 'Everyone was saying that flippers fed to you to the sharks.'

''You're kidding me, he's got sharks?' she asked incredulously.

'Ey, that's what I heard. I ain't never seen them. Name's Enrique by the way, been here since the beginning. The beginning of Arkham City that is, not that it's even officially open yet, the gates are still open.'

'What do you mean by that? The gates are still open?'

'What? No, don't count on it, it's just a figure of speech. The opening of the facility is just press coverage, a little ceremony the city has with the mayor. Only thing that is going to happen security is going to get tighter, they've already started putting up cameras everywhere north of here.'

Well, if security had been impossible to by-pass before, Clara knew now that she could probably give up of even dreaming of escaping. This was really turning out to be a terrible night.

They reached the museum and descended the stairs past the main entrance, to find the Penguin already awaiting them, one of his men having already ran ahead to inform him of the turn of events. His stared wide-eyed up at Killer Croc as the group entered the hall, as if not quite believing what he was seeing, but then he noticed Zsasz and a sadistic grin grew upon his face.

'Well, well, if it ain't my old friend, Victor Zsasz.' he smiled nastily as they approached. 'Still got those butter fingers, or did you lose them too when you gave up gambling?'

In contrast to his earlier behaviour, Zsasz fell completely silent. His eyes looked ready to pop from his skull, the grinding of his teeth was audible in the room, every muscle in his body was tensed. Clara had never seen a more enraged expression on anyone's face before, and she could tell the Penguin was loving every moment of it.

'Throw him in a trophy case boys, no need to be picky, we'll make a placard for him later.' The Penguin shouted, grinning all the while. 'And leave him in there to rot!'

'I will have my mark!' Zsasz shouted, and she saw him seeking her out amongst the gathering, quickly she turned her back in the hope that he wouldn't recognise her face. 'I will seek you out, and I will find you. I will find all of you little piggies, especially you Cobblepot. Do you want to know, where I will place your mark-'

'Ah, someone get him to shut up. He's boring me,' the Penguin shouted, then added with a chuckle. 'Though I must admit, it does add nicely to the ambiance of the museum.'

He then turned to regard Killer Croc, who had come to standstill in the centre of the room. There was a wide space around him, no one standing within arm's reach of him.

'Croc old boy, how are you?' shouted the Penguin, smiling as he came closer though Clara didn't miss the way he tapped his bodyguards with the end of his umbrella on the way. 'I was half expecting ya not to show. So Tony has already spoken to you? Well here I am wondering what your reply is?'

'What's it pay?'

'We'll discuss that later,' the Penguin clipped, watching Zsasz clawing at the glass of his cabinet prison. 'If you're on board, you'll get paid just like everyone else. We'll go to my office now, and talk about the finer details.'

Clara suddenly found herself the subject of scrutiny, but despite what she had done the Penguin merely looked away again as if it had been nothing. She hadn't really expected to be welcomed back a hero, but she had hoped for at least a little acknowledgement, something that might indicate that she was not completely worthless. Oh well, it was time to move on, her work was done for the night. She began to shuffle her way out from amongst the crowd, planning to find somewhere dark and quiet to curl up and go to sleep. Except half-way across the room she was intercepted by One-eye.

Whack!

'You little brat, you're coming with me now!' he huffed, grabbing her by the arm as she reeled from the blow. Clara was on her last legs, the stress was getting too much, she could only just force herself to suppress the urge to punch the lunatic holding her. A year ago she would have cried at such treatment, or screamed at least, but now she had to remain in character.

'What did I do? What did I go?' she growled, struggling to pull free but restraining herself from shrieking at or hitting him.

'Getting into trouble like that, you trying to get yourself killed?' he was grumbling under his breath, and in the light Clara saw that his face was bruised and large chunk of his ear was missing, red running down his neck from it. 'Do you think, for one minute that-'

'Oi, One-eye! Get your arse over here, I need to talk to ya!' shouted the Penguin. 'And where is that loud-mouthed Frankie? I've got a mission for you slugs.'

Clara, seeing an opportunity, yanked herself free from One-eye's grip while he was distracted, and quickly slipped amongst the gathering crowd, and left the front hall behind.

She headed directly for the arena, intent on taking a shortcut down to the lower floors where the hammocks were stored - not that she had such a luxury, her current bed was a folded cardboard box, but right now it was attractive as a silk lined king-sized bed and there was nothing more that she could have desired right then than to go straight to sleep.

The arena itself was empty of anyone alive or dead, though the mess left by the last fight still hadn't been cleaned away, there were dark smears of blood upon the floor and even on the electrified fence. Clara skirted around this, passing through the open gate and going up the steps towards the hall that led to the Iceberg Lounge, she knew there was a small passageway that twisted down into winding stairs nearby, and that where she aimed for; a shortcut.

But as she got to the top of the stairs she realised that there were other people in the room. All sitting behind the pillars, talking quietly amongst themselves. They all looked up when they noticed her, their talking immediately ceasing. There was no one in sight she knew beyond a few words, though she recognised one.

Greasy haired and lanky, so called loud-mouth Frankie had noticed her come up. He was the same guy that on the first night had suggested she wouldn't last a second in the fighting pit, and while this was true and was probably what everyone else in the room had also been thinking, Clara distinctly disliked him. There was something very sly about him, like a fox sneaking around a farmyard hen-house after dusk. And though she had never talked to him, the minute she saw him coming over she knew there was going to be trouble.

'Hey Tony!'

Clara began to walk faster, pretending not to hear, if she could just reach the hallway-

Frankie was blocking the door.

'So you're still alive? I heard the Penguin was going to get rid of you,' he laughed, coming uncomfortably close. He put an arm around her shoulders like they were good friends, but the half-embrace was anything but friendly, and now he was deliberately steering her away from the door.

'The boss was looking for you, ya know?' she replied, ducking out from under his arm. She squared her shoulders and stood her ground, not wanting to give them anymore incentive to harass her.

'Was he?' a strange look passed over Frankie's face, somewhat between fear and disgust. 'What did he want?'

'He said something about a mission, he's waiting in the front hall.'

But Frankie seemed to have lost interest in the conversation and was no longer even looking at her, instead he grinned at the others, and they were still grinning too.

'I feel as if we have not given you a proper reception yet, Tony,' he said unravelling a piece of cloth from his pocket. 'I feel as we have not fully integrated you into our midst, and I feel it my civil duty to do something about it.'

'And what would that be?' she managed to snarl, though she was already considering vaulting down the stairwell parapet.

'Oh nothing nasty,' he replied, eyes wide as if shocked she thought his words could be anything but sincere, and behind him the others laughed amongst themselves. 'Just a little game, is all.'

'I don't like games,' Clara replied, beginning to back away towards the stairs; no shortcut was worth this.

'Yeah, well they're important for team bonding,' he snapped, blocking her exit again and putting an unwelcome arm around her shoulders again, though this time it was more of a headlock than a 'casual hug'. He began to forcefully lead her back towards the others. 'Just a lil game of blind man's buff, you know, coz your daddy who-is-not-your-daddy can't see all that well. It's appropriate, see? Only he don't see, so you get to view the world from his perspective.'

'…' Clara said nothing, trying to hide the fact that she was panicking, but she knew her resisting feet that dug into the ground were a dead giveaway.

'It's a simple game really,' he said, keeping one arm locked around her neck as he wrapped the rag tightly over her eyes. 'You try to catch me. You can only win - unless you give up, which I might take as an insult if you know what I'm saying.'

And then, completely blind, she was shoved forwards into the middle of the terrace. Her hands flew out to steady herself, she braced her feet and strained to see through the thick material over her eyes. But she could not see a thing. The others were laughing again, they sounded as if they were coming closer, but Clara didn't have much time to worry over this though because the next moment she was nearly knocked over as Frankie darted forward from the opposite side he had left her and shoved her.

She steadied herself and swiped blindly for anything to cling on to.

She moved to take the blindfold off, only to immediately be shoved again, this time far more roughly.

'I wouldn't do that if I were you! We wouldn't like it if you cheated,' he laughed, his voice moving as he circled her. 'Try again and we'll gouge your eyes out to make sure you can't.'

The next time he shoved Clara did fall, she grazed her knees but thankfully managed to stay up right. She barely had time to get to her feet again before she was being shoved once more, in between his loud laughs she could hear his footsteps, but in her panicked mind she had lost all perspective on dimension and could not pinpoint where in the room she was, let alone pinpoint the sound.

When her knees knocked against stone, but the rest of her did not, she realised she stood right at the edge of the balcony, a 30 foot drop, and she heard Frankie running at her again.

And she immediately understood his intentions.

He was going to push her off.

She was able to gather enough of her mind together to dart away from the balcony, but then not being able to see anything, stumbled and fell to her knees again. There was a chorus of disappointed boos and jeers. When she heard him coming at her again she leapt to meet him, grabbing hold of his sleeves as he came within striking distance, only for him to violently twist out of her grasp – nearly breaking her fingers in the process.

'Uh uh uh, it's not going to be that easy,' he jeered. Clara snarled, and lunged at him, only for one of her outstretched hands to painfully crunch against a stone pillar.

'Come on! You really think it's fair to the rest of us for you to play so poorly? Make this fun to watch, come on, try to catch me!'

Clara held her injured hand to her chest, she could hear more than one set of feet moving now, and the sounds seemed to come from all around her. She had a horrifying vision of all of them coming to throw her off the balcony, or worse while no one else was around. They were all talking amongst themselves in low voices, chuckling, her blood began to roar in her ears.

It was horribly familiar in a way that Croc could never had predicted.

He had been following the Penguin and some others back towards the Iceberg lounge, when he had spotted Tony again.

It was not a game, the girl had been blindfolded so that she could not see, she stumbled as she tried to fend off the circling pack, never knowing from quite where they were coming. And they all laughing, they all found it hilarious.

He had seen this before, years before.

An intense illogical urge to leap to her protection filled him. It took more than a moment for him to remember that she was not Becky, and her antagonists were not unwanted hoodlums but his colleagues now, or rather he was not supposed to kill them anyway.

Suddenly she turned his direction, she was listening, he stopped walking. Without warning she lunged towards him, arms locking around one of his legs. Immediately silence fell, the amusement of the crowd was gone, all waited with bated breath for what he would do. Like it was a circus act, like he was a performing animal.

The little rat was clinging to his leg, hands digging into the cloth - holding on to him because she couldn't see what she was doing. But it didn't matter, in that moment she was blind Becky, and he had to save her.

With an angry roar he sent the nearest man flying, he wasn't even sure if he had been involved in the attack. There was a mass panic and everyone was scrambling to set away from him, even the Penguin was swearing in alarm.

But Croc wasn't so out of it as to know that he needed to immediately stop when the guns were aimed at him.

The girl ripped off the blindfold in the commotion.

For one moment, he paused and looked down at her and she looked back. The illusion fell apart immediately, Becky had been blind but this girl was not. There was no attempt made by her to hide the horror she felt at seeing him. She took one look at him then slowly looked down to the one arm she still had wrapped around him, and without warning, promptly crumpled to the ground.

The tension in the air was erased almost immediately as people began to laugh all around. Pointing and jeering, not at him but the motionless form upon the floor. Croc for once was at quite a loss at what to do, normally he wouldn't have thought twice about simply walking over a stranger, but right now he was confused.

'Alright, you lot, that's enough!' shouted the Penguin, chuckling himself. 'Ain't got time for you lot to stand around gawping, get back to work! Croc? You ain't to kill, crush, maim or eat anyone without my say so! If you feel like taking swings at my boys again, save it for Joker's bastards, he's got more than enough of them!'

The Penguin glanced, sneering, at the motionless body lying at Croc's feet. 'You can keep this one though. Isn't worth his salt.'

A/N: For those unfamiliar with the Arkham Unhinged comics, Becky was the first friend Croc ever made - she was a young, blind girl who introduced him to the circus of which he became a sideshow freak and was given the name Killer Croc some time before the events of Arkham Origins. She died when the circus was set on fire, as did most of the people that Croc cared about.

This chapter is actually the second half of the one previous to this, I ended up splitting it in two, so it may flow a little funny.

I love reviews X3, thank you TurtleKidTheWoolGatherer, Riksie-Dixie and ZombieMart! Anyone feel free to point out any inconsistencies or other problems in the story itself, especially if it is to do with the format of the story. If you think there is anything I can change with the way I present the later chapters, please say something, the main thing I'm worried about at the moment is the presentation of side/minor characters that aren't cannon (e.g. One-eye, Loud-mouth Frankie etc). Enrique, whom Clara was speaking to at one point briefly in this chapter, is in fact a cannon character - albeit a very, very minor one from Arkham City (last name Sanchez, if that helps at all).

Also on a completely irrelevant note: I've just finished my final exams! Wooh, no more physics lessons ever! Hopefully this means I'll be able to get more chapters up quickly, hopefully I can finish this story before the end of the summer holidays.

Quick summary of this chapter:

Clara finds that Croc has followed her, managing to catch Zsasz just before he can kill her. Zsasz struggles, and Croc throws him against a wall, knocking him unconscious. Croc then reveals to Clara that he has decided he will go for the job, but wants to go with her now as he knows that there may not be another chance for him - if Clara was shot, the Penguin might well not bother sending anyone else - and he doesn't want to risk turning up on his own - not when there are so many itchy triggerfingers everywhere.

However the sound of Zsasz struggles has already brought the attention of a nearby patrol. They swarm around, terrified, but Clara manages to talk them into calming down. They all go back to the Iceberg Lounge where the Penguin is waiting for them. Zsasz gets thrown in a display cabinet, and the Penguin welcomes Croc. Meanwhile Clara is found by One-eye who hits her for worrying him, not liking this she decides to leave at the first opportunity.

But by slipping out alone, back towards the arena, Clara inadvertently puts herself in greater danger. So called 'Lou-mouthed Frankie' is lurking around with a group of others drinking. Thinking that it would be a fun game to bully her while no one else is around, Frankie forces her to play a deadly game of Blind-man's buff, which culminates in him trying to shove her off the terrace to her death - or at least horrible injury. Clara manages to evade these attempts on her life though until accidentally she grabs hold of Croc - who has since come into the room unbeknownst to her. Unbeknownst to her though, Killer Croc had just had a flash back to when he had caught ruffians bullying Betty back in his days at the carnival - seeing Clara 'blind' and stumbling - and reacts violently. Croc brutally sends one of her tormentors flying over the railing. When she realises what she has done, Clara - already exhausted from the night's events - faints.