Chapter 10

Trust

'When I find out who's the bastard that's been snitching, I'm going to wring his bloody neck!' the Penguin's shouting echoed in the hallway. 'Jim! Jim, you lilly-livered bastard, where are you?! Get over here!'

Clara hung back towards the edge of the room, but she wasn't the only one, the whole room looked as if they'd rather be elsewhere. When the Penguin was angry, people tended to die, that was a matter of principle. This gathering had been called abruptly without any prior warning, Clara had been one of the last to arrive, and as such had no idea what was happening.

'What's going on?' she asked Enrique quietly.

'That noise you hear in there,' he said, jerking his chin in the direction of the uproar. 'That's the sound of the boss realising he doesn't know who to pin the blame on for yesterday's screw up.'

'You've got to admit it's very suspicious,' muttered another, taller and paler than Enrique but not quite as talkative - Clara believed he was called Tom or something like that. 'We turn up, and they're already waiting for us? The whole place was rigged, we were lucky to get out with our lives.'

'There have been snitches before, remember Grisby? Selling out secrets to the Joker?'

'What happened to him?' Clara asked, though she suspected she already knew.

Elvis slowly drew one finger across his throat in a deliberate motion. 'He got dropped through this trapdoor in the dining hall, you know the place with all the stuffed polar bears? Got fed to the "big man".'

They stopped talking immediately when the Penguin came marching into view, several armed thugs and Sickle the one-armed behemoth close behind him. His seething rage seemed to permeate the room, no one dared utter a sound.

'Okay, listen up you slugs!' he shouted, folding his hands across the end of his umbrella. 'As you twits bloody ought to know, last night someone doubled-crossed us! Now you all know how much I hate double-crossers, so you'll have no difficulty understanding me when I say that there is a pretty penny for anyone who can turn the ratbag over!'

They all remained silent, the atmosphere was still too tense for anyone to say anything without certainty.

'Really?' the Penguin drawled irritably. 'You lot are either the biggest bunch of twits I've ever set my eyes on, either that or someone here is lying.'

He glared at them expectantly, daring them to challenge his authority. When he was certain that no one was going to speak, he continued his speech.

'However that ain't why you rotters were called here. You lot are going to go on a little expedition. You see, apparently Joker's boys think it's funny to squat by our drop zone and wait to steal our goods, but you know what I think's funny? That they think we won't smash them into oblivion for uttering such disrespect!'

'Okay boys, that's a wrap, let's get these bodies out of here. And take back whatever goods are left to the museum,' shouted one of the senior crew, taking the lead of the mission in the absence of their leader – who had come down with a violent case of bullet-through-head syndrome.

It was a cold night, as all the previous nights had been, but after having spent several hours outside now the chill was beginning to get to him. The mission was over, they had won, all of the Joker's thugs were either dead, dying or gone. All that was left now was to clean up and head back.

Croc supposed this was like how it had used to be before he had found permanent residence in Arkham Asylum, when he had run with gangs, but just like then it was a matter of staying alive, and he was left feeling hollowed out. Anger, when it surged through his veins, was powerful but it burnt out fast, he couldn't be angry all the time and when he wasn't he felt himself slipping ever faster into a pit of despair, which then made him angry again. He fought for his life, but what was it all for? He had no long-term goals, he had few to no plans beyond simply surviving. These thoughts led to anger again, but just as quickly that would fade and the cycle would reset.

Nearby he could see Tony moving about, he wasn't quite sure what she was doing, he guessed scavenging. She was definitely sneaking, as she searched around for anything useful in the few spare crates while no one was looking - well, except for him. But she knew he could see her because more than once he had spotted her looking up to check where he was. Apparently she had decided that he wasn't likely to say anything on the matter, and she was right, he couldn't care less if she was stealing, it was her decision not his, as far as he was concerned it was trivial.

Croc finished flinging the last of the dead bodies from the fight onto the street and out of the warehouse, where they would be left until the TYGER guards spotted and removed them. He took one last look around to check his job was done, seeing nothing else that needed moving he decided that his work there was over, and turned on his heel to head back to the museum. He had barely made it a few steps before he heard someone hurrying to follow him.

He turned abruptly, thinking that perhaps some idiot was charging him. But it was Tony. She flinched at his sudden move, but she did not leave, instead she put her hands in her pockets and gave him an uneasy smile.

'Erm, nice night?' she stated unexpectedly.

He looked at her, puzzled at her attempt to start a conversation.

'It's getting colder,' he remarked, then turned and carried on his walk back to the museum. Tony was trying to maintain a casual outward appearance, but she practically had to run to keep up with him. She kept straining her neck back to look behind them, watching for danger, but he was pleasantly surprised that in this situation she ignored his presence, the danger she was watching out for wasn't him.

'Yeah, really hoping here that it doesn't snow. I can't imagine having trudge through icy mulch to get from place to place, it's cold enough already,' she replied quietly, as if afraid of being overheard. It was very possible she didn't want to be caught talking to him, and it wouldn't be the first time this had happened to him.

His thoughts drifted to icy mulch, or mud, or whatever she was referring to, and looked at his own bare feet. Yeah, he was hoping there wouldn't be any snow either. He could handle the cold most of the time, he had his thick skin to thank for that, he could swim for hours without becoming cold, but this had its limits and his immense size meant that he wasn't likely to stumble across any clothing in his size, let alone a coat or jacket. Amongst many others things, the cold was one of the reasons he had immediately sought out the underground as shelter when he had arrived in Arkham City. It had been summer when he arrived, but he remembered how cruel Gotham's winters could be – and it had been his last refuge before he had been committed to Arkham Asylum years before.

'Hey Croc! The boss needs you to move this cargo!' shouted harsh voice from behind them, and he realised his departure hadn't gone unnoticed.

He hissed in irritation and turned back, Tony made to follow him but then seemed to think re-think this decision and headed off in a different direction, going back to what she had been doing before, sneaking around.

...

It was little more than five minutes later though, when his acute hearing picked up on the sound of a scuffle. He thought nothing of it at first, until he saw who it involved and felt a surprising surge of anger.

'You think you can just take what you like because you found it, street-rat?!' a thug was shouting, he had someone in a headlock who was struggling fiercely to break free.

It was Tony, she had been caught snooping around. It really wasn't really his place to interfere, but he felt no loyalty to the Penguin's henchmen. Croc had a distinct dislike of bullies, he remembered them all too well from his childhood, mobbing him, chasing on him, driving him away. While this scene was hardly the same, he felt a dark rage fill him, and he stopped what he was doing immediately.

Storming over, Croc grabbed the back of Tony's jacket and pulled her up off the ground, effectively yanking her out of the thug's grip. Upon catching sight of him the thug stumbled backwards, grinned nervously and shuffled off hurriedly. Croc was half tempted to go after him, but knew on this occasion it wasn't worth it, the Penguin hadn't been happy the last time he had accidentally killed off one of his colleagues. There were others here too, most of them armed, and if they thought their lives were in danger they wouldn't hesitate to take potshots at him.

Tony had stopped struggling as soon as she was pulled free, but now she hyperventilated in his grip, glaring after the retreating figure of the thug.

'It was his fault, I wasn't doing anything,' she lied, trying to look back over her shoulder at him but she was finding it hard, suspended up in the air as she was. Croc saw her slip something into one pocket, trying to hide it.

'What's was that?' he asked, if she wouldn't tell him he would check for himself, he didn't like being lied to.

Tony though, didn't make any further attempt to be secretive, and somewhat reluctantly reached into her pocket and withdrew a pack of plain playing cards.

'One of the Joker's guys had them on him,' she grumbled. 'Everyone else is pillaging, why can't I? It's not like they're worth much.'

Well, that was sadly pathetic reason actually, he thought, he had expected her to have been stealing money or weaponry.

He lowered her back to the ground, Tony immediately turned to face him again, and Croc noted they were mostly alone - the others were at the other end of the warehouse, including the one who had been arguing with Tony. Were they up to something? It was the same every time, no matter who he was hired by, everyone strove to keep away from him, some team they were...

'I don't suppose you erm, know any card games?' Tony's unexpected question brought his attention back to the present. She sounded a little nervous but she was looking up at him expectantly, and in her hands she still held the pack of cards out.

'I know a few,' he replied, uncertain whether she was indirectly asking him if he wanted to play.

'Well umm, would you want to...?' she was a little too nervous to quite voice the whole question aloud.

To be honest Croc was pleasantly surprised by the suggestion. Card games were something he was very familiar with. Back in his circus days, card games had been a regular source of entertainment in the long breaks between acts, as electricity was only supplied to the tents when the generators were running, and to save fuel the generators were generally only turned on at night for lighting - meaning that things like TVs were generally not run.

But that was not here nor now. He did not know Tony all that well, and he certainly didn't trust her. Either she was up to something or she was just incredibly bored.

'Somewhere else,' he replied after a small silence. 'Later.'

'Oh, cool,' was her quiet reply and she grinned to herself. Tony then turned to look in the direction in which the thug had fled. 'You could have done something to him, you know? Knocked him down or something,' she said in a surprisingly malicious tone, Croc was given the impression that this was not the first time Tony had had a run in with that particular inmate.

'If I'd have done that, the others would have shot at me,' he growled.

'Hmm, well, I wish I could've knocked him over.' she muttered, and looked up at him out of the corner of her eye slyly. 'I suppose I should be giving my first report, since I owe you and all.'

'Somewhere else,' he repeated. He thought for a moment, it wouldn't be so bad to have someone to talk to, an ally. Besides, he wanted to know if she had unearthed anything since the day before.

'Alright,' she replied. 'I'll find you.'

There was something quite strangely comforting about the idea of having Killer Croc as an ally, at least in Arkham City – Clara knew that if she were anywhere else this probably wouldn't be the case – so she was eager to keep up her end of the bargain and had gone out of her way to be as talkative as possible, at least with Enrique's group, while in other cases she practiced her spying skills and had listened in on any conversation she could.

Currently, Clara was searching for Croc. She wasn't familiar with where he normally spent his time, though she had seen him lounging around in the mess hall once but she had already checked there. So now she was on the lower floor, near the fighting arena which was currently unoccupied, she had found Enrique and some others moving crates.

'Hey, Enrique,' she called, running over. 'I don't suppose you could spare a minute?'

'Kind of busy right now, Tony,' he replied, arms straining to hold the heavy crate up.

'It's just a quick question,' she persisted, walking beside him. 'Have you seen Croc around? I've been looking all over for him.'

Enrique heaved the crate into place and put it down with a thud, he frowned at her. 'Now why in the hell would you be looking for Croc? Didn't he try to eat you?'

'Eat me?' Clara paused for a moment. 'Oh, nah, nah. That was just a misunderstanding.'

'I'd avoid him if I were you, but if you must know, I think you might find him on the floor below this one, near the dungeon. Don't say I didn't warn you when he kills you.'

...

It was the same place she had been taken to before, but she had doubted Croc would be there at that moment, she had seen the room for herself and she knew there was nothing to do there. But she thought she might as well try, if he was there then having a conversation in private with him wouldn't be as hard as it would be in a room full of potential eavesdroppers.

So that was where she looked.

Down on the dungeon level, there didn't appear to be anyone around. It was dark, cavernous place with high ceilings and angular architecture, and somehow horribly warm, there was a distinctly rotten smell that permeated the entire floor which left Clara wondering what exactly was making such a stink. She had noticed it last time she had been through here, but she had been in such a hurry to get out of there she hadn't paid any attention to it at the time.

While she was stumbling around, trying to find her way, she passed a massive barred metal door reinforced with chains, it was here the smell seemed to be at its strongest, there was also the distinctive scent of burning. Deciding that she didn't actually want to know in the least what was actually causing the smell, Clara quickly moved on to look elsewhere.

Eventually she came to a tunnel, that led to a door that lay ajar, she was certain it was where she had been before but the room was bathed in darkness. Presuming no one was there, she began to turn away. But then a Croc's voice came hissing out from the darkness.

'Tony,' He emerged from the shadows, looming as big as ever, the ceiling here high enough that he didn't need to slouch.

'H-hey.' she greeted, and tried then failed not to cower.

'Was wonderin' where you were,' he said. 'You alone?'

'Erm, as far as I know,' she replied, suddenly feeling like she had no reason to be there and it had been stupid to come. What if he thought what she had learnt wasn't good enough?

Croc was silent for a moment, he briefly leaned to one side to look up the hall, he didn't seem to know what to say next. Clara unintentionally chipped in, as her sense of smell got the better of her and she wrinkled her nose and looked back towards the chained door, subconsciously drawing one hand up to cover her nose.

'It's carrion,' Croc commented, also looking over towards the chained door. 'Human carrion, smells burnt too.' He seemed to grimace, but Clara wasn't sure if she imagined it.

'What's that room used for?'

'I'm thinking disposal,' Croc replied, looking down at her. 'Originally thought it was a furnace, but there's no fumes, no smoke. Never seen no one go in there.'

'Hmm,' Clara had crossed her arms, horrific images conjuring themselves in her mind's eye of what could lie beyond the chained door. She hoped she never had to find out, though she suspected that this locked off room was directly below the dining hall, hadn't someone said something about the Penguin dropping off undesirables through a trap door?

Croc sniffed the air once more, looking around, and Clara knew without a doubt that he was checking they were alone with his keen sense of smell. Then he silently stepped back into the storeroom, she hesitantly followed him. He turned on the light as she went in.

He watched with wonder as Tony made her way past him, climbing up on top of the nearest pile of cement bags and sitting herself down. He really hadn't expected her to come.

'I wasn't sure where to find you,' she said, watching him out of the corner of her eye. 'Anyway, I'll tell you what I've got at the moment: there is this rumour that the Penguin is planning another attack on the Joker's part of the city, well actually that isn't really a rumour, everyone knows that the Penguin plans to take over the Joker's territory one day. This is more about that he is planning to blow up the bridge, the current problem is that he doesn't know how to sneak any explosives anywhere near the industrial district. There are the usual food drop recoveries tonight, but there is going to be an attempt to take over one of Two-Face's depot points in the next few days, which I guess is sort of a big thing. That's all I have for now,' she babbled, then looked at her feet. 'How often do you want me to report this sort of stuff?'

'You're frightened,' he rumbled, a little annoyed, so much for her fearlessness of him earlier.

'It's not something I can help,' she whined. 'Maybe if I could trust you more...'

'And how would you trust me more?'

Tony didn't say anything for a moment, looking up at him, surprised at the genuine question. Then she wrung her hands, and looked at the floor again. 'Perhaps, erm, if I knew you a little better.'

'What's there to know? You know who I am. The media will have filled you in,' he knew she knew, his mug had been all over the news at one point.

'I know a few facts but that is not what I mean. I know nothing of your err...manners, I can't predict how you'll react, and what I can't predict I fear,' she said earnestly. 'I can't make myself trust you, but I can learn to. I can promise you can trust me, but that doesn't mean you do.'

'No,' Croc agreed. 'I don't trust you. And something is off about you…'

'I know I'm not the usual kind of inmate you see around here. Not a mercenary, or from Blackgate,' Tony said, and laughed uncomfortably. 'I'm one of the crazies that the boss keeps going on about, maybe that's what's off.'

'Hmmph, what did they have you in for?' Croc was now sitting down, so that they were closer to the same height.

'...erm, crazyness?' she suggested, she had half turned away from him as if regretting having told him.

He looked at her blankly. Having spent the last several years of his life locked up in an asylum he knew this could mean a lot of things.

'I see things that aren't really there,' she elaborated, looking away in shame, but then she looked up at him earnestly. 'But I've lived this long, I know how to take care of myself.'

He hadn't expected that, he had suspected she was in Arkham City for theft or some minor crime. They had called him insane at Arkham Asylum, that was why they had transferred him there from Blackgate, but he had not been one of those patients that yelled and saw things that weren't there, he had never heard voices inside of his head, he hadn't been that kind of patient. He looked over Tony again, she didn't seem particularly crazy, not anymore than anyone else, was he actually talking to a lunatic? Well that would explain her interest in talking to him in the first place.

Now that he came to think of it, hadn't he overheard her speaking to herself the other day?

When he didn't respond again, Tony sighed and drew her legs up to her chest, and she explained further. 'I got gassed by the Scarecrow during the mass breakout in Arkham Asylum last year. That's all there really is to it.'

'I was there during the breakout, didn't see you. What building were you in?' Croc asked, uncrossing his arm and leaning forward to listen. Then again, he hadn't really seen many people on the night of the breakout the year before, despite the break in security, he had still been confined to the old sewer system. Tony could have been yelling and shouting in the next room and he probably wouldn't have known she was there.

'I was in the Medical Facility, just before the main event, I knocked myself out...I guess I missed the party,' Tony said, doing her best to appear at ease, but it wasn't fooling him.

'You didn't miss much,' Croc replied, he remembered the night somewhat fondly, an occasion no matter how short in an ocean of numbing nothingness, where every day was as boring and terrible as the last. 'The Joker ended up screwing himself over, he started the riot but he also ended it. And the Batman showed up, and beat up on anyone who wasn't already unconscious, not much more happened than that.'

Tony tried to smile, but she was clearly stressed out, she quickly raised a sleeve to wipe at her eyes. 'Yeah,' she replied shakily. 'Not a bad thing I missed it then.'

'You're scared,' he could smell her fear, as far as he knew he hadn't done anything to trigger this reaction.

'I'm not scared,' she replied, there was a little irritation in her voice. 'That night at the asylum, short lived though it was for me, changed everything. And not in a good way.'

'I got gassed by Scarecrow once,' Croc replied, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes a little. 'One of the shittiest experiences I ever had, the stuff he uses makes you see everything you would never want to all at once.' That had been several years ago now, but he remembered the event clearly, his long dead aunt rising up out of the ground larger than life and screaming abuse at him, and the events of the last night of the circus before it had gone up in flames replayed to him a hundred times over.

'When I woke up I tried to a stab a medic,' Tony replied with a wry smile which quickly melted into a frown, then she looked hopefully up at him. 'I heard rumour that you killed the Scarecrow that night. Is it true?'

'Hahahar! I got him all right!' Croc laughed, but then stopped realising this was not actually something he was certain of - that night had passed in a blur, when the caped crusader had shown up nothing else had mattered other than tearing the vigilante into pieces, but of course not even that had worked out for him. 'I think I got the Scarecrow. When the Bat showed up, my priorities changed.'

'Well I hope he's dead, the bastard deserved it,' she growled, crossing her arms angrily, there was real bitterness in her voice. Then she looked at him again a little less nervously, and smiled softly. 'Thanks for the save back there by the way, I messed up, that stupid idiot Avery has it out for me.'

'It was nothing,' he replied uncomfortably.

'So you said you play cards?' Tony asked after a few seconds to fill in the awkward silence.

She drew out the deck of cards she had found at the warehouse from her pocket. It had been a while since Croc had played any card game, and as he looked at the pack he was dismayed to notice that they looked so much smaller than he remembered, a single card could fit neatly in the palm of his hand, at least they still looked playable. He held out a hand for the cards.

'I'll deal,' he told her.

'Erm, which games are we talking here?' Tony asked as she handed over the deck.

'Crazy 8's?' he suggested awkwardly, but she thankfully didn't appear to pick up on 'crazy' and just nodded.

...

So for the next hour they played crazy 8s. And it wasn't long before either forgot where they were. Tony was no longer frightened, concentrating too much on the game to think of anything else, and in turn Croc did not feel as aggravated, Tony just smelt like Tony and not anger or fear.

Eventually though, Tony had to call it quits.

'I'm rubbish at this,' she complained, having lost yet another round.

'You'll get better with practice,' Croc was actually in quite a good mood now, he felt more relaxed than he had in years. He was thoroughly enjoying the game, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he had lost none of his own skill in the years since he had last played.

'Maybe, or we try a different game next time,' Tony, meanwhile, wasn't completely of the same mindset - he couldn't blame her, her luck had been awful, bad hand after bad hand and on top of that it was quite obvious she wasn't familiar with the game.

'Next time?' he asked, she wanted to do this again? He didn't want her to leave, but he'd be damned if he said that aloud.

'I've got to go, it's probably really late now and I need to check in,' Tony replied, shrugging apologetically. She took a deep breath and looked up at him again after a few moments, rubbing the back of her neck as if embarrassed. 'I think I should mention. If we are to be allies and all, you should probably know that my name isn't Tony.'

'Figured it wasn't your real name, or thought it might be short for Antonia or some'in.' he replied, indifferently, though he was confused when he noticed the expression upon Tony's face was that of shock. 'What?'

'I mean I'm not really surprised, I sort of guessed you knew, but don't go saying stuff like that aloud,' she said worriedly. 'You can't tell anyone, if they knew they would kill me, or worse...'

Silently she set about gathering the cards back into a pack.

'It doesn't matter to me.' he told her, it wasn't something he had even really thought of till now. 'Like I said, I knew all along.'

Tony, or whatever her real name was, pocketed the cards and looked back up at him.

'And you haven't told anyone, that means a lot to me,' she said quietly, she smiled at him sadly. 'I promise to bring better information next time, and I'll bring the cards as well, though I can pretty much guarantee I won't be any better at it.'

The next night...

'They are watching us through cameras,' One-eye said to her presently, tugging on Clara's sleeve.

'They? You mean the TYGER guards?' she asked, looking up from where she was helping to repair the fencing for the fight club's arena. The electricity for the fencing was off but Clara knew better than to not keep her eyes off the switch nearby.

'Them and everyone else in this facility, they all watch, you know?' the man replied very seriously. 'They have cameras everywhere, you just can't see them. Always watching me and following me. They're after me coz of my connections.'

'And are they listening to us now?' Clara asked doubtfully.

'Yes, yes,' One-eye replied, nodding earnestly. 'They are after me, but haven't caught me yet.'

There was the heavy thudding of feet, and Clara tensed as she spotted Croc emerging from the hall below that led to the lowerfloors. He looked at her for a moment, then spotting One-eye, moved on, not stopping once as he ascended the stairs, then disappeared through one of the doors in the direction of the lounge.

'How well can you see?' Clara asked One-eye quietly, forgetting for a moment where she was.

She cried out as she was sharply clipped across the ear.

'I can see just fine, boy!' snarled One-eye, though Clara could see the pupil behind the cataracts of his one remaining eye dart nervously around the room. 'That was old Sickle wasn't it?'

Clara was already moving away though, through the doors, leaving the remaining fencework to One-eye.

'Tony? Ah, come off it, boy, no need to be like that just to spite me,' he called after her. 'Tony! Come back here!'

Clara set off towards the lounge, hoping to catch up with Croc. Like the many things that had happened her over the past year, Clara would never had ever pictured herself playing card games in an old storage room with a mass murderer from Arkham Asylum, but somehow this thought at the time hadn't meant anything to her other than by some strange logic that she was in less danger than she had been for some time now, and she wouldn't have minded repeating the experience.

She wasn't certain what she was going to say to him, she didn't really have any new information regarding plans or upcoming missions, but she hoped maybe just maybe he wouldn't mind.

The lounge was also not normally a place she would go, she knew Enrique and his pals sometimes hung out there but she hadn't been able to muster up the courage to ask if she could accompany them, thinking that she would be laughed at.

Many men sat around tables, talking amongst themselves and drinking. But Croc was not amongst them, though she searched thoroughly just to check, and found that not even Enrique or Elvis were there. To her alarm she did spot loud-mouthed Frankie with purple bruises across his face and an obviously broken nose, talking to Avery who fortunately had his back turned her direction. She made to get out of there quickly before he spotted her. However she found her route back was blocked, a patrol had just gotten back and were now just absent-mindedly standing around talking amongst themselves. She spied the exit onto the streets and began to make for it, hoping to skirt around the side of the outside building and make it back in from the other side.

'Hey pretty boy, come here!' someone shouted.

Clara quickly made her way up an alcove and out of sight, then quickly continued on her way to the exit, going through the back door and past the two guards who took no notice of her, their main duty being to keep people out rather than in. She strode out into the chilly night, and immediately made her way to go around the building, only it was then that she noticed some three from the lounge had followed her outside.

'Hey Tony, wait up!' one of them shouted.

Clara's heart sank when she realised it was Avery, she turned and hurried on her way, ignoring them.

'Hey, I'm talking to you, you street-rat!

Clara decided to lose them, slipping into one of the sidestreets away from the main road. But they followed, and before she knew it she was lost and they were still chasing her.

At a dead end she stopped and turned to face them, ready either to try to dart past them or fight with every fibre in her body no matter how hopeless such a fight would be.

'We just want to have word with you, nothing more,' one said, sneering.

But whether this was the truth, however unlikely, wasn't revealed for at that moment seven men in masks leapt upon them. Clara felt a sharp jab in her arm, and the next thing she knew was that her vision was darkening and she really couldn't care less that she was now lying on the icy cold pavement. As her vision swam, she noticed that her three pursuers appeared to be fighting with giant rabbits until they too succumbed and collapsed nearby. Believing that it was all probably a trick of the mind or insanity, perhaps both, Clara slipped into unconsciousness.

A/N: I rewrote this chapter (more or less) about three times! :( I just didn't like the earlier versions, perhaps this could have gone better, I don't know, but this was the closest I could get to what I wanted. This chapter is supposed to be a major turning point in the story, Clara doesn't necessarily trust Croc (nor he trust her) but she is now going out of her way to be around him. For now this is for mostly selfish reasons, she sees Croc as a resource (protection) and knows that in order to keep on his good side she must try to be friends with him. Croc meanwhile (probably a bit OOC, sorry) after many years of being isolated (I can't imagine he had much social contact in the asylum), is more on the end of just liking the fact that he has someone to talk to who won't insult him at the first chance they get, or that he feels is insulting him (e.g. the psychologists at Arkham), though he certainly doesn't trust Clara yet.

Writing Croc's POV was a real pain this chapter, I've probably screwed up his dialogue and made him seem OOC.

Also constructive critisism: If you can see anywhere in this story where there is an inconsistency such as Clara sitting on the floor one moment to being held in the air by Croc and then back again without explanation, be sure to point it out. When I do re-writes, I tend to work over my old drafts by cutting out and adding new bits rather than writing it all again, so what may have happened here is that two drafts are combined into one and that is where the inconsistency comes from (e.g. perhaps Clara was being carried in the old draft but was sitting in the new, but if I don't notice this then the blend could be a mix of wtf, magic and embarrassment :P), hopefully I didn't miss anything.

Anyway, things relevant to this chapter:

Fun fact 1: "lilly-livered" = cowardly (the Penguin exclaims this at the beginning of the chapter, I think this is exclusively a British term, but I might be wrong).

Fun fact 2: I don't know many card games, like at all, so I looked up the names. I heard that Crazy 8s was generally a children's game but I might be wrong.

Fun fact 3: because it's not all that important to the main story, I might as well point out that in the last chapter there was the tiniest of hints that Loud-mouth Frankie is double-crossing the Penguin, I'm not sure it was that apparent though. Frankie originally was going to be a much bigger villain in this story, but I've since realised he isn't all that important and decided to cut this role out. He's still a hazard, but that's as far as it goes.

Thanks for the kind reviews, meh luvs :D

Quick summary of this chapter:

The gang have just defended a resource dropsite from the Joker's gang who had tried to take control of the waypoint. Clara is snooping around after the mission, looking for anything on the bodies she could take with her, however she is spotted by Avery who takes the chance to pick a fight. Croc steps in before Clara can be hurt.

She later goes looking for Croc to report back what she had learnt. They end up talking and even playing a game of cards.

The next night Clara is busy helping One-eye fix the arena fencing, she sees Croc passing and makes to follow after him - wanting to be away from One-eye and have someone to talk to. However she finds she has followed the wrong route, directly into the Iceberg Lounge, and Croc isn't there, but Avery is.

Fleeing into the streets out of sheer panic, Clara and her pursuers are ambushed.