CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I was surprised to wake up and not be alone. Sometime in the night or day or whenever we'd gone to sleep I'd rolled so that my back was pressed along Waylon's warm side. He slept with one arm flung out above my head and the other on his chest, occasionally noisily clicking his claws over the scales there. Moving onto my back I ended up pressed even further into the male and finally understood how the hulking behemoth walked around without a shirt on during the absurdly freezing Gotham winters. It may've had something to do with no shirts in existence fitting him but probably had more to do with his burning hot body temperature. Even now with the weather turning to early spring there was still frost in the mornings and biting winds during the day. But snuggled up next to Croc I was comfortable, maybe even a little sweaty, without a blanket in the cold of the sewer tunnel.

I closed my eyes and feigned sleep for a bit longer. Listening to Croc's loud, heavy breaths I began to feel my eyelids get heavier. It's odd, I'd been living on survival instincts just to keep a pulse while I'd been in Gotham, but here tucked against a known cannibal in a secluded part of the world where no one was around to hear me scream I felt safe. Maybe I had just come to terms with my inevitable death. Or succumbing to some form of Stockholm syndrome.

I was startled from my thoughts when the solid presence at my side shifted. There was a grunt before the breaths returned to sleepy sighs. Cracking open an eye I saw he'd rolled onto his stomach, arms spread out lazily near his head. Wincing at the biting sting in my abdomen I got to a seated position and watched him for a bit in the dim light of the tunnel. The rise and fall of his back with every hissed breath caused light to glint off the subtly spiked shards of keratin embedded in his skin.

Intrigued, I found my hand trailing over the green glass like scales, idly rubbing my thumb at the skin between. I looked over his entire form, impressed as always at how slim his waist and hips were in comparison the rest of his massive frame. If he ever got Batman alone without his toys there'd be no chance for the bat. I snatched my hand back as Croc woke, pushing himself up and back onto his haunches. He rubbed his face and gave me a tired look.

"I wake you up?" I asked, my voice croaking with the remnants of sleep. He slowly shook his head, moving his huge hands to scratched at his neck then chest. Yawning an impossibly toothy and wide yawn, he clacked his teeth back together and got to his feet before gathering me up in one arm and lumbering through the damp tunnel towards the access hatch. I had my arm around his neck, surprised by the sudden and comfortable transport.

"Where you gonna live now?" he asked with half lidded eyes. I bit back a smile. Croc's not a morning person.

"I'll need to call the Broker. But first find some money," I said, dropping my head against his shoulder. The Broker was everything a criminal could want in a person, discrete, confidential, quick, and true to his contracts. Unfortunately he knew that and charged accordingly. With all these bat induced injuries my funding was drained and I doubted any of my bank accounts or credit cards were even accessible anymore if the GCPD were really looking for me. It was nice of Croc to let me spend the night with him but I couldn't keep forcing my circumstances on him.

Pushing the sewer cover off like it weighed nothing, Croc quickly pushed me through the opening and followed right behind. Standing with the aid of the wall I emerged from the odd supply closet to a still trashed shipping floor. Workers and thugs alike were at work clearing the debris but all stopped to watch as Croc and I exited his 'room' together. I grit my teeth and focused on limping past the rubberneckers. It wasn't any of their business, if they had the wrong idea I wouldn't correct them. If they had the wrong idea? Shouldn't I be more confident in that? I shook my head, dispelling the odd thoughts.

Croc and I separated with tired grunts. True to my word I made my way to Black Mask's office assistant to check he was free before clumsily entering the most uncomfortable room in the world.

"Dollface," he acknowledged without looking up. I shuffled until I was a few feet from his desk, trying to mask my labored breathing, "Sir."

"You need something?"

"I need a loan," I stiffened my spine, bracing for the worst. He set down his pen, one that probably cost more than anything I'd ever own, and steepled his gloved fingers.

"Convince me," he commanded. A wave of mental fatigue hit me. I could sleep until I died and still feel drained by this guy. Steeling my resolve not to be intimidated by his glittery wicked eyes, I pressed on.

"I proved my skill set to you at Blackgate. I can be an asset to you in the future and I have repeat clients that need my jailbreaking, I'll be able to pay you back. With interest," I reasoned. He didn't react for a time.

"So you think I'm in such desperate need of a little girl who can spring a lock that I'd waste my money on her while she's crippled and worthless," he mused. I didn't know what to say. I tried not to look anxious while sweat rolled down the back of my neck. He chuckled, relaxing back into his chair and folding his arms.

"What do you need the cash for, anyways?"

"Batman's been in my home and someone tipped off the GCPD about where it is. Batman probably fed them the tip. I don't have anything left after dealing with my injuries. I need to get in contact with the Broker and you know how expensive that guy is," I sighed, shoulders sagging.

"How long until you're out of the casts?"

"It's gonna be months."

He breathed a long, irritated sigh.

"You're more trouble than you're worth."

I shrugged, not meeting his eyes.

"But you are worth something, so how about this: I'll put you up. Cozy little place, one bedroom, one bath, and paid off to be ignored by the GCPD. I'll house you but you're going to work for me, Dollface, and you will work for me for a very, very long time. My kindness doesn't come cheap," he hissed in his smooth as ash voice. I swallowed thickly, flexing my fingers in my cast. Did I even have a choice here? He wasn't going to offer a loan, and if he did I'd be getting a loan from a mob boss. That's how people ended up with baseball bats to the knees and smuggling balloons of heroin in their ass.

"Can I ask what I'll be doing?" I murmured. He laughed sharply, "come on kid, of course it's not going to be that easy. Who do you think I am anyways, asking me for a loan, some kindhearted Wayne?"

I shook my head, grabbing onto the strap of my sling with my free hand. "Sorry Sir, I'd like to take your offer if it's still, uh, available."

"Good. I'll have someone set you up. Now get out of here, I'm sick of looking at your face," he dismissed me. Retreating from the office and passing Llana on the stairs I couldn't hear her morning greeting or anything else over the thundering of my own heart in my ears. Dropping down to sit in a corner of the main floor I hung my head in my hand, staring sightlessly at my shoe.

I had a sneaking suspicion I'd just sold my soul.

I was moved in by the end of the day. By the end of the first week I figured out what Black Mask had me doing. Escape plans. I was almost flattered by the new work regime. Now that people were pushing for reopening Arkham Island Black Mask wanted to be prepared. So I locked myself in my new home, which turned out to be one of Black Mask's safe houses, and built escape plans around blueprints, proposed electronic locking systems, fifty feet of solid concrete, and with various constraints like armed guards or restricted access to certain items.

The safe house was a remodeled first floor in a rickety looking building. There was an enclosed concrete courtyard in the middle of the building that had a small gardening plot. The apartment interior was mostly red brick walls and concrete floors with plush rugs and furniture breaking up the space, the kitchen had a stainless steel island that doubled as a bar, and the only hints of the building's true owner could be found in the culturally diverse masks decorating the walls. The enormous bathtub and glass shower stall made up for the creepy masks, however. That and the California King sized bed.

I stayed there for a while. The time passed quickly no matter how hard I clung to the moment. I had my stitches out, casts off, and full mobility back before I could blink. The new housing situation did have some drawbacks, mainly the isolation. I was craving human interaction. The only time I get to speak to people was when one of Black Mask's men would stop by to drop off groceries and anything the boss wanted me to take a look at, but they'd never stick around for more than a few minutes or so.

When Croc stopped by to drop off supplies I lunged at the opportunity to get human contact. So as soon as he folded through the backdoor and went to dump the rolls of blueprints off on my desk, I slammed the door shut behind me and grinned menacingly at his back. All mine now. I saw a suspicious yellow eye narrow at me over his shoulder.

"What're you doing, brat?"

"Nothin'," I flashed a cheery smile before it dropped into a frown as I sniffed the air, "when was the last time you took a shower?"