Arkham City (Closed)
2:12 A.M. (Present Day)
Gotham Airspace
"Central to Echo Six-Two, how's things looking up there?" The radio transmission buzzed in through the cockpit of the GCPD helicopter.
Flying high above charred buildings and desolate streets, the police chopper was but a speck of sand on the beach compared to the waves of TYGER attack ships that had previously swarmed the skies of Arkham City several weeks earlier.
It navigated a steady, stable flight path overlooking all that remained of the now defunct city-prison.
Sergeant Yu, a veteran of the skies and the pilot onboard, promptly responded into his headset, "This is Echo Six-Two. Reporting nothing out of the ordinary, Central. Over."
"Famous last words." A chuckle filled the cockpit, originating from his co-pilot, Officer Morgan.
His eyes reflected a certain cynicism as they gleamed under the sharp illumination of the dashboard lights. "I knew a guy who said that back when I was still serving overseas. Right before insurgents fired an RPG up at him. Bastard never saw it coming."
"I heard it was hell over there," the Sergeant commented.
"When I joined the force, I thought I knew what that word meant. But being in this city, it makes my combat tour look like a damn summer camp." Morgan's chuckle soon subsided into a sigh as he nodded towards the miles and miles of destroyed city that sprawled below.
"Roger that, Echo Six-Two." Central's voice responded back over the radio. "Maintain a lookout for any sign of Ivy, or the Bat. As of now, he's still MIA."
"Copy that, Central. We'll keep our eyes open," Officer Morgan responded this time, looking down to get a better view of the streets below. "Over and out."
The chopper's piercing searchlight continued to sweep over the ravaged prison, painting a stark portrait of what Arkham City had become.
Once a symbol of potential success at the prospect of containing Gotham's most dangerous criminal inhabitants, it was now a mark of another institutional failure. Just like the asylum that preceded it.
Discarded barricades and haphazardly erected outposts lay scattered, grim reminders of the relentless gang warfare waged by Gotham's home-grown psychopaths and super-criminals.
And then Protocol 10 had happened.
Everywhere they looked only evoked imagery of a bombing campaign that would not be out of place in some of modern history's most destructive conflicts.
The rockets fired and missiles launched left the streets covered with craters, iconic landmarks reduced to their skeletal remains.
"Ever wish sometimes you could just wash your eyes with something- something that makes them forget what they saw?" Yu asked, his sight briefly settling upon the burned museum beneath them, the former stronghold of Cobblepot.
Morgan's hands maneuvered over the thermal imager controls, his eyes locked on the screen, scanning for any irregular heat signatures as he replied to his co-pilot, "Too many times to count. You just find a way to live with it."
As the chopper started to cut a new path around the church, Yu responded, "How do you live with closing up all those body bags? I still haven't told my wife about that yet."
"Easy…" The other officer gave somewhat of a callous response. "Think about who's in them. I mean, Strange was a bastard for what he did, but you can't be too mad about who he did it to, right? We're talking murderers, rapists, scumbags of the highest order."
"Maybe, but I don't think they deserved to go out like that," Yu opined, as they went back around to the Bowery. "Killing a bunch of killers, what's that make you? Worse?"
"Necessary." Morgan's voice took on a hard note of resolve. "It was a necessary evil, if you're asking me. I got a daughter at home sleeping a whole hell of a lot better now because a bunch of these lowlifes got taken off the board."
A silence lingered between them for a moment.
Then, with a swift maneuver of the joystick, the helicopter swept over a GCPD detention camp, formerly the processing center for new inmates into Arkham City.
"Maybe not all of them," Yu nodded out to him, referring to the huddled masses of jumpsuit-wearing prisoners inside that particular facility.
"Sooner the boys can get them all back to Blackgate to rot, the better," Morgan said, peering down at the fenced in swarm of lawlessness below just outside the gates of the city-prison.
"Don't forget about her," the Sergeant pointed out, as many within the muddled masses glanced skyward, their eyes tracking the helicopter's path.
"You're right." The other officer leaned back in his seat. "Hopefully the Bat can shut Ivy down before she makes all this look like summer camp all over again."
The helicopter next flew over a blinding spotlight…
… a spotlight that illuminated a group of officers standing guard in the temporary detention center.
Assault rifles at the ready, their eyes meticulously patrolled the last few batches of inmates all awaiting transport elsewhere.
"The hell's the holdup?" Another officer approached them, his impatient voice slicing through the cold air. "Weren't the last inmates supposed to be out of here by now?"
Sergeant Miller only took a breath, his breath fogging up in the chilly night breeze. "Under normal conditions, yeah, we'd be done by now, Sanchez. But our resources got diverted to deal with the green problem."
The officer raised an eyebrow. "Batman's got her already, right?"
"We haven't heard confirmation from Dispatch that she's in custody," Miller informed him. "So whatever he's doing, he's taking his sweet damn time. Meanwhile, Commissioner's been taking units underground as we speak. If that doesn't tell you something, I don't know what will."
"Like that's necessary," Officer Jones chimed in. "Listen, I was one of the cops that Cobblepot had in that damn museum. Once we got made, I knew I was dead. But when he got there- holy shit. You guys should've seen the Bat in action. I tell you he moved like someone in one of those old kung fu movies. Ivy doesn't stand a chance."
"Sure would be cool if he could let us know already," Officer Elvis commented, also one of the undercover officers held at the Penguin's mercy some weeks ago. "I've been here too long. Seen too much shit, the kind that don't wash off easy in the shower. The sooner I'm out, the sooner I'm checking myself into therapy."
Miller placed a calming hand on his subordinate, "Won't be too long now, if Batman's as good as you say. And after all this, I don't know about you guys but I'm filing for a transfer."
"To a new precinct?" Jones suggested.
"Nah, to a new damn city," Miller answered, shouldering his rifle. "I heard from a good buddy of mine that Coast City is where it's at. Nothing bad ever happens there. Well, except for this one time with some Ferris Air test pilot who went missing-"
Before he could finish the sentence, a hooded figure landed right beside them, startling the seasoned officers.
Jones and Sanchez instinctively raised their rifles against the intruder, their instincts telling them one thing.
"Wait! Hold your fire!" Miller ordered his men, telling them something else. "Stand down. Cash says he's clean now."
"…yes, sir." The two officers, understandably still a bit on edge after their experiences, lowered their weapons.
Rising up from his kneeling position, the Boy Wonder, no longer tied by the strings of the plant queen, cut to the chase, "Where's Gordon?"
"This is Commissioner Gordon. Code Green is still in effect. I repeat, Prisoner #181 is not in custody."
A slight pause followed, the air filled with radio static before his voice returned, steady yet urgent.
"Intel from our anonymous source has put her last known location in Wonder City, which is under this damn prison. Batman was last seen going there to apprehend her, but we've lost contact with him. We've already established a perimeter sealing all underground exits, but all units should proceed with extreme caution. If you see or are near Prisoner #181, do not engage her directly. Keep your distance and call for backup. Also remember Waylon is still somewhere in that vicinity, so keep your eyes open."
Gordon exhaled, the quiet hum of the radio echoing in the dim light of the GCPD mobile command unit on the bridge leading out of Amusement Mile.
Then, he began the roll call, his voice switching through the frequencies.
"Central to all checkpoints and patrol units, status report. Over."
A gruff voice answers, "This is Checkpoint Alpha, all clear on the Steel Mill. No sign of Ivy."
"Copy that, Alpha. Stay vigilant. Bravo, your status?"
A crisp female voice responds, "This is Patrol Bravo, still sweeping the Bowery, Commissioner. All quiet for now."
"Good, Bravo. Checkpoint Charlie, do you copy?"
"…"
Silence stretches across the radio, the seconds ticking away ominously before Gordon repeated himself, "Charlie, report."
"This is Charlie. Apologies for the delay, sir. Woods thought there was a disturbance, possible Code Green, but it was nothing."
Gordon let out a relieved sigh, but was quick to remind him, "Nothing for now. Stay alert, Charlie. Anything that looks greener than usual, you report that in. Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"Alright, Gordon out."
The officer signed off on his end, his eyes sparkling an emerald glint in the darkness of the sewer tunnel.
Not far from him, Officer Woods was sprawled out on his back, his black-clad body laid out on the cold, damp concrete of the subterranean labyrinth.
His discarded flashlight skidded across the ground, its beam illuminating his lifeless face. An eerie outline of a lethal lipstick kiss on his bloated lips glowed ominously. His veins, usually hidden beneath the skin, had begun to darken into a grotesque floral green, crawling over his features like sickening tendrils.
Scattered around him, the rest of the patrol unit were motionless on the floor, their bodies riddled with bullet holes and their weapons discarded haphazardly in their final moments.
A wave of sentient vegetation had overrun the well-fortified checkpoint, steel barricades crumpling under the force like they were crafted from mere paper. The robust automatic searchlight was toppled, its glass casing shattering on impact. The fragments scattered, leaving behind a hole that eerily mirrored the silhouette of a bat.
The iconic outline was projected onto the grimy walls of the sewage tunnel, a beacon of hope in an otherwise hopeless scene.
However, there was no savior coming for the fallen men of GCPD. No Batman coming.
She made sure of that.
"It's done as you asked, mistress. The seeds have been planted." The only standing officer now knelt before the woman who decimated his squad, his brothers in blue.
Her crimson lips curled with delight.
"And my firstborns? Does he suspect?"
"Gordon suspects nothing." His head remained bowed. Eyes filled with nothing but glowing devotion for the plant queen.
"When I leave, what will you do for me next?"
"Anything you want me to do."
His obedience aroused a wicked chuckle from the wicked woman. "Kill anyone who comes here. Kill yourself before they can get anything out of you. Then you will be absolved of your sins against nature."
"Yes, mistress."
With a languid toss of her fiery red hair, she started to walk deeper into the darkness.
He remained kneeling.
She walked past bodies, all freshly dead.
"He's…gonna…ngh… stop you." She paused.
All except one, apparently.
She turned her head to the side, where one officer still pathetically clung to life even with blood trickling down his gasping mouth.
"Batman…will…" He couldn't finish the sentence, but the fact that he could even form words caused her brow to furrow, a spark of irritation flaring in her emerald eyes.
She turned to her enthralled puppet again.
Her cooing voice was laced with an innocent sweetness that contrasted starkly with her vindictive and cruel nature, "This man's existence…displeases me. Fix that for me, won't you handsome?"
Without waiting for a response, her lithe figure receded into the shadows, leaving behind the hypnotized officer and his dying comrade.
Footsteps approached the sound of pleading, prompting desperate cries to echo through the dark tunnels.
"Wait…Richard…please, man. I'm begging you- no no please NO-"
A single gunshot brought upon a deathly silence in the dark.
"So, you believe him?"
Only minutes after Robin had relayed to them a brief summation of what occurred in Wonder City, the other GCPD officer turned to his colleague with a look that was at best, skeptical. "What? That Ivy got the jump on the Bat? Hell no."
"Didn't Harley Quinn kidnap him just last week?"
"Or, maybe he let her kidnap her so he can do his Batman thing. Think about it, he rescued all our boys, right? Even stopped the crazy bitch in the end, didn't he?"
"True, true." The other officer conceded that much as they continued to stand guard in the Detention Center. "Let's hope he can stop this one too."
Vines violently ripped open the steel grated covering that had sealed off the long winding tunnel deep within the underground labyrinth.
The sound of metal giving way to nature was a familiarly satisfying melody to the ears of the emerald-eyed vixen.
With her path clear, she began to step out of the circular passageway
Immediately, the smell of death was thick in the air.
Something else that was familiarly satisfying to her senses.
Ivy walked off the solid brick floor and ventured rather fearlessly into murky water that rose initially at ankle-deep levels.
The sway of her hips remained undaunted even as the plant queen ventured outside the protection of her floral domain, and into the domain of another.
One that mankind has also deemed…monstrous.
Her naked feet splashed against the shallow depths as she waded through this area of the sewer systems that was now flooded almost completely.
Accordingly, the water rose as she walked, going up to her knees as she went deeper.
Deeper and closer.
Floating past her facedown was the upper half of a TYGER guard. There was nothing left below the waist.
Such a grisly, gruesome sight only brought a smile to her face.
Her children were right.
This is where he lives.
"You don't belong here." An animalistic growl emerged from the darkness.
She stopped, her smile growing even more.
The monster spoke to her…
"Is that you, Killer Croc?" And she responded back with playful excitement.
The darkness growled back at her with disdain. "Leave. Me."
"What if I don't want to leave?" she retorted with sensual confidence and certainty.
That aroused a sadistic chuckle from the crocodile man, one that was like sharp knives being sharpened against each other.
"I'll break your bones like toothpicks. Drink the marrow from your spine. Then, I'll eat what's left."
"Mmmmm, I'm afraid I wouldn't digest well, Croc," she pointed out with a knowing chuckle of her own.
"Why not?" the darkness demanded.
"My body is poison, love. Even if you could…take me apart, you would die very slowly and very painfully if you tried that last part," she told him. "Personally, I wouldn't advise it."
There was silence.
And then…
"What do you want?" There were words, irritably formed by the former inmate of both the asylum and the city prison.
Her lips curled wickedly. "To give you what you want, Croc."
"Give me Strange. Give me the Bat. Give me Gordon." The darkness growled out its demands, one after the other, only amusing the plant queen more and more.
"The doctor is dead, Croc," she told him at first, incurring an incensed roar from the mutated behemoth at first. "And the Bat…"
"What?! Tell me!"
"I killed Batman," Ivy said with a smile.
"That's…impossible."
"Nothing is impossible to mother nature," she purred with sublime confidence, making him scoff at her words but ultimately consider the sincerity in which she gave them.
"He was my kill. I had his scent!"
Sensing his irritation and anger, she would soon point out, "But the Bat wasn't the only one who put you in this place, was he Croc? Gordon still lives, as do all of his acolytes."
There was another growl, but there was unmistakable intrigue within the feral noise.
"...go on."
"You don't have to go hungry any longer, my love. I can promise you a feast. A banquet of blood and flesh. All that you could ever ask for, and I only ask one small favor from you," she went on to say.
Again, there was silence.
Then, there was movement. Water rippling all around. Footsteps seismic enough to foreshadow earthquakes.
Eventually, he emerged.
At first, the ripped and torn orange trousers provided the illusion that this was like any other male inmate.
It wasn't.
Above the waistline, lizard-like scales covered a muscular chest that was green and gnarly.
His eyes were slit with an inhuman yellow, his teeth sharpened fangs and his face utterly beastly.
Towering above the toxic temptress by several feet, he was no longer shackled by iron. Not on his ankles nor his neck.
Claws, razor-sharp, adorned his fingers.
Once born as Waylon Jones, he had shed his humanity like a past skin that no longer fit his body.
Now, he was the monster that prowled and preyed. That ate what, or who he wanted.
And in response to her proposition, Croc only had one thing to say.
"I'm listening."
Author's Note: Tick tock...looks like it's time to feed the Croc once more. Thank you again so much for the support! Any thoughts on this new development? Whatever the case, let me know!
