Chapter Four

Waylon Jones had become fairly notorious since his involvement with the Christmas Eve incident. Besides Joker he was one of the most visually shocking criminals most people had ever seen. I'd caught sight of him in transit around Blackgate once. That glimpse was enough information I needed to know he was to be avoided at all costs if I wanted to make it out of this penitentiary alive.

Now, balancing on my tiptoes as Waylon crouched over me, breathing in my scent, I knew I'd done a shit job of that.

"Black M – Mask sent me. He – "

"He sent me a snack?" he growled. I gasped, shuddering as something hot and wet rolled across my collarbone.

"No! He told me to break you out! He wants to talk," I took my hands from his wrist and began pushing on his massive chest, realizing those rumors about cannibalism might have a bit of truth to them.

Waylon snarled, leaning back sharply and grabbing my injured left hand.

"What's he want with me?" he asked, inspecting the bleeding digits as I frantically tried to get out of his grip.

"Blackgate's under inmate control now, he wants you on his side, don't – " I shrieked as Croc slid my palm against his teeth. My wet eyes met his luminescent yellow " – please. I need that," I whispered lamely. He rolled his eyes, running his tongue over my bleeding palm despite my squirming.

"You work for Black Mask?" he continued to run his teeth over my fingers.

"Yes, I can take you to him. Please," I whimpered, face wet with tears. Waylon grimaced then dropped me; I collapsed onto my backside, quickly scrambling to my feet. Waylon rose from his crouch, unfurling to his almost nine foot full height. I pressed my somewhat slobbery hand to the front of my now shredded coveralls.

"You're all bone anyways. Take me to him."

I furiously scrubbed the wetness from my face, again, and checked that my leg wasn't bleeding too badly before I began the journey back to Black Mask's headquarters. Killer Croc remained a few feet behind me at all times, breathing deeply. It was unnerving but aside from worried glances to make sure he wasn't too close there was very little I could do. Even then, I doubted I could make a run for it if he suddenly found me expendable. Along with a well-formed physique, which elicited uncomfortable thoughts, his legs were almost as long as I was tall.

The trek back was much easier than I thought it would be. We came across a group of Joker's men, four guys all with guns or steel pipes, and they all just gawked before backing away. It wasn't until we passed them that I realized I was holding my breath, a cold sweat dampening the lower back of my coveralls.

"Anyone ever tell you how good you smell scared?" the man behind me smirked. My shoulders tensed, my steps going a little faster.

"Uh, sorry. Soap's hard to come by now," I mumbled, itching my neck anxiously. Waylon coughed a raspy breath, making me jump. That was a laugh. That was a laugh? I quickened my steps again, almost to a trot.

We made it to Black Mask's office without another incident, everyone backed away when they saw the walking dinosaur with me. If it weren't for the threat of getting ripped in half or eaten, I'd almost call the response reassuring. Getting waved in by one of the goons watching the door, and observing with utter fascination as Waylon almost folded himself in half to fit through the doorway, we now stood facing Black Mask. I stood ramrod straight, hands clenched at my sides. Waylon had to slouch over a bit to fit into the room comfortably. The masked mob boss leaned back against his desk, arms crossed, as he looked us over.

"You didn't eat her?" he asked. I grit my teeth. Bastard didn't tell me who I was supposed to spring on purpose.

"Better use as a toothpick than a meal," Waylon snorted, eliciting a chuckle from Black Mask. I blushed angrily, hunching my shoulders.

"Can I leave?" I asked, cutting off their condescending laughter. The mob boss glared at me.

"What? We boring you?" he snapped. Still feeling self righteous, I continued.

"I got him back here. What you two discuss isn't any of my business, I'd like to leave," I replied. The white suited mob boss remained quiet for a time. I could feel my resolve weakening. I hated when he didn't do anything but watch. There was something about his eyes, they were always dangerous but it went deeper. Whether it was madness or something worse I lacked the capabilities to understand it. He pushed off the desk, taking a step towards me.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Well we wouldn't want to keep you from your busy schedule."

"Thank – " I choked on the rest of my words; he gripped my arm and threw me face first onto the desk. Black Mask gripped a handful of my hair, pulling my head back. Something cold bit into my neck.

"You know, I thought I'd made it clear what kind of position you're in, but I've always had a soft spot for women so maybe you misunderstood," he hissed, cheek bone of his mask digging into mine. My hands scrabbled at the desk, pushing papers and pens off as I struggled. His weight made me immobile, bruising my hips as he pushed them against the desk's edge. "So I'm going to make this as clear as possible," he emphasized his words by pressing the blade harder against my throat "you are not valuable. You are alive only thanks to my good graces and every time you open that cut up little mouth you are closer and closer to falling out of my favor." I sobbed openly, biting my bottom lip to stop it from happening again. The knife repositioned at the junction of my jaw and throat, digging in till it bled. His fingers twisted my hair harder, more tears springing to my eyes.

"Now - stop crying - and listen to what I'm about to tell you," he snarled, standing and pulling me back against his chest "watch yourself Dollface. I'm the only one looking out for you in a bad, bad world. Don't make me an enemy," he stared down at my face, trailing the knife and his gloved fingers from my throat, dipping briefly past the collar of my jumpsuit. He continued to look into my eyes, his touch bordering on intimate, before slamming my face into the desk. I shrieked, falling to the ground momentarily blinded. Black Mask removed himself from behind me.

"You may be excused."

I climbed to my feet with the aid of the desk, holding my bleeding forehead and bolted from the office. I lumbered away, bouncing against the walls until I got to my cell. Now sobbing openly, I burned my fingers on the Tazer as I relocked the door behind me. Not bothering with washing my wounds I threw myself onto the cot, miserably wrapping the blankets around me. I mushed the dirty blankets against my blood and tear stained face.

After a few hours, my sobs and shuddery breaths calmed into self-loathing sniffles. This wasn't anyway to deal with the situation. I was alive. Black Mask had said to my face he would kill me, and I was still alive. Maybe I was assuming him too sane, but there had to be a reason I wasn't dead yet. Whether he wanted to admit it or not I was useful. Maybe I would have to live under his sovereign rule, but it was a matter of time before I'd figure a way out of this situation. I always did. There wasn't an institution on this planet that could hold me; I wouldn't be pinned under a man's rule for long.

I slept heavily that night, only waking briefly from a dream of Killer Croc's toothy smile outside my cell door growling, "I've got your scent" before I drifted off.