Chapter 5
I stayed in bed as long as I could. Eventually I got around to bathing behind a sheet I'd erected over half my cell for modesty's sake. I frowned at the large gash in my leg from the rebar. Was I up to date on Tetanus shots? Was that how that worked or would I need one now to not get Tetanus? Grumbling I changed into spare underclothes then got to work scrubbing my dirty clothes in the sink. I had a few sets of under wear and under shirts but this was my only jumpsuit. I huffed, glaring at myself in the unbreakable safety mirror. It reflected about as well as polished plastic, but I could see enough. On top of the countless old red scars that marked my body like a roadmap, my bottom lip sported a healing cut down the side, my forehead and left side of my jaw were bruised purple with the split running across my forehead was scabbed over, along with the few shallow slashes across my throat. I glanced down in the sink, catching sight of my shredded palms. Damn. I really looked like trash.
After my coveralls dried I clambered back into them, feeling sore down to the soul. The rips were still there as well as most of the stains but as long as I felt cleaner the ordeal had been worth it. I tried to convince myself to stay in the cell all day, but the empty pit that used to be my stomach wasn't having it. How many days since I'd last eaten? Maybe now that I was officially on Black Mask's roster I could have a go at the food supply stores rather than hunting down another pack of Little Debbie's in a broken vending machine somewhere.
Sticking to the walls I found my way to the stores. Peeping around a corner, I took stock off the situation. There were two men with guns guarding the crates. Deciding it was now or never, I approached. They both looked me over but with their faces covered I couldn't tell if they were about to shoot me full of holes or laugh. Luckily I got neither.
"Take what ya need but don't get greedy, brat," one of them said, waving me in.
It was Christmas. Crates stocked with dried meats, cans of fruit and vegetables, candy, bottles of water and juice - even coffee. If I believed in god I'd have dropped to my knees and started speaking in tongues. I searched over everything, grabbing a bottle of water, can of pineapple rings that probably had a whole fruit in there, and a big bag of teriyaki beef jerky. Smiling like complete idiot, I didn't notice the odd musk. Contemplating grabbing a bag of apple chips, I didn't hear the guards shuffling away or the rough breathing. Spinning on a heel, my face fell when I saw Mr. Waylon Jones blocking the entrance to the food stores, watching me. He scratched lazily at the metal collar on his throat.
"Find anything good?" he asked, a hint of Cajun accent touching his words. I stepped back, forcing out an uneasy smile.
"Yeah. I haven't eaten fruit in a while, it's kind of exciting," I mumbled, folding my arms tighter over said goods. Waylon grimaced, then set about inhaling deeply, sniffing. He dropped onto his haunches suddenly, I stepped back bumping into a crate and dropping onto it. His attention returned to me.
"You're the only thing I could eat in here," he growled towering over me. I stared up into his luminescent eyes, an uncomfortable feeling growing in my stomach. I looked away sharply, trying not to focus on the interesting way light reflected off his odd hide.
"Sounds like you'll die of hunger in a few days then," I mumbled, a little too aware of his presence. He coughed his odd laugh, once again scaring the hell out of me.
"Nah, Black Mask's giving me all the people that disappoint him," he rumbled, a smirk playing across his pale lips. I bit back a frown. Hey, we all have to eat; I can't really fault the guy as long as I didn't end up in a gumbo. The pleased look on Waylon's face vanished at a sudden blue flash at his throat. Hissing, he reared back, cringing as the shock collar at his throat briefly crackled to life. In a moment it was over, but his mood was spoiled.
"They put a shock collar on you?" I asked, oddly angry at the inhumane treatment. The Killer Croc grimaced, rolling a heavy one shouldered shrug.
"Why'd it electrocute you just then?"
"Been acting up since I smashed it." So he'd damaged it. He seemed to be getting along just fine, however. Standing, I inched my way around him, ducking under his arm to make it to the door. I turned back, seeing he was still watching me.
"Uh, have a nice day Mr. Jones," I offered, blushing at how fucking awkward the situation was.
"Whatever."