Monster of the Sewers

Tick-tock!

The sewers of Gotham City, dark and eerie, teem with unknown monsters.

Killer Croc himself was once one of them.

But not anymore. He was a man with two hundred million now. Even though it was all dirty money, undeclared and not legally earned, meaning he couldn't spend a single cent openly.

But he had money. With money... came hope.

Killer Croc opened his eyes.

His nictitating membrane flickered, rippling the water's surface under the dim light of his lantern.

"The big guy's coming again," he said to the Ventriloquist beside him. "I mean the big guy. I never thought I'd call someone that, I always figured I was Gotham's most famous brute."

Despite saying that, Waylon actually felt a lot smarter.

He had accepted that his brain wasn't the best, but it wasn't always like this.

In his teenage years, his IQ was no different from anyone else's.

But ever since he grew into adulthood and became a full-blown reptilian beast, he found that the more he distanced himself from people, the more his bestial nature grew, and the more severe his physical transformation became.

And these past few days, he had been staying with other humans. His bestial nature receded significantly, making his mind much clearer.

"Focus on the job, Waylon," the Ventriloquist said, sitting on the walkway beside the sewer. The old-fashioned Gotham underground drainage system always had corridors for workers to move around.

The Bat-Baby in his hand replied, "Don't worry, you might not be the most famous brute, but you're definitely the richest brute right now."

He continued, "You've already seen those two vans full of money in the Swiss bank vault, right? If you want your employer to launder all that money so you can spend it, you'd better move fast. It's not your first time doing this today, anyway."

"I know without you telling me."

The humanoid alligator swung his tail, rising from the underground river, and then lifted a small cart from beside the Ventriloquist.

A whole roasted ox, baked to a golden crisp, was placed inside. It should have been at Gotham's top seven-star restaurant, wasted by a bunch of outwardly refined but inwardly gluttonous idiots, not in this filthy place.

Killer Croc sighed.

Roast pork, roast beef, the fragrant smell in the sewer... it was all so familiar. It was the same old routine, but now he was the one carrying it out. It felt strangely ironic.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Roar--wooo--

Like the sound of heavy iron balls hitting the ground, the sound echoed through the vast underground water pipes, accompanied by a hoarse, deep voice, composing a grotesque duet.

Listen closely--the sound was saying:

"Solomon Grundy--born on a Monday!"

The third Robin, Tim Drake, sat on the edge of a building, observing an apartment in the distance with binoculars.

Batman and Harley Quinn were inside.

If it were the old Batman, Tim wouldn't have worried at all, because he knew how capable Batman was--but not anymore.

Could Bruce Wayne really handle a dangerous criminal like Harley Quinn?

Tim carefully swung across the street with his grappling hook, landing silently on the rooftop, then slipped through a window into the corridor.

As dusk deepened, the voice-activated hallway was pitch black.

The slightly ajar door let out a sliver of light, like the gaping maw of a giant beast.

Tim quietly hid in the shadows behind the door, then heard Harley Quinn say:

"Fuck, Bats, you*****"

"******!"

!!!

With a loud bang, Tim kicked the door open!

"Batman, what are y-- "

Then he saw Batman holding a skeleton in one hand, juggling a skull, and seemingly trying to stuff the scattered bone fragments back into the mouth of a giant Venus flytrap.

"Waaaaaaah! Are you making me eat my own vomit???"

The Venus flytrap, Frank, struggled fiercely but was no match for Batman. Chen Tao pulled out a lighter and flashed it in front of him, and Frank immediately became compliant.

"Aha!"

Seeing Robin enter, Harley immediately jumped down from the windowsill, striking a pose like a stern inspecting officer, nostrils flared: "Private Robin, attention!"

Tim turned to look at Batman, giving him a "What the hell is this?" expression.

Chen Tao explained:

"These people weren't killed by Harley."

Harley cooperated and put on a show of madness beside him.

"Wuwuwu, Mr. Skeleton, wuwuwu, Mr. Skeleton! You died so tragically!"

"You went from a living person to a corpse, it's definitely not your fault, rest in peace, rest..."

"Uh... this is just Harley's version of the Great Compassion Mantra or Requiem," Chen Tao added.

"Hmph hmph hmph hmph~"

A few minutes later, Harley Quinn stood in front of the Batmobile parked at the alley entrance.

She leaned her butt against the front of the car and then, as if boneless, slid into the passenger seat of the Batmobile.

"So what's next, dynamic duo?"

The third Robin stood beside them, huffing indignantly. The Batmobile's passenger seat should have been his!

"No one knows Poison Ivy better than I do. I'll help you find her now, but you have to let me talk some sense into her before you rush in."

"And after this is all over, you guys have to put in a good word for me with the parole board. Tell them what an upright and kind citizen I am, and so on and so forth."

It seemed like a reasonable request, a simple favor for Batman.

As long as they agreed to Harley Quinn's terms, they could immediately get her help to find Poison Ivy, defeat the Plant Master, and solve all their problems.

But Batman wouldn't do that.

This was Harley's test, a test to see if he was the real Batman.

If Chen Tao agreed, it would be Batman begging Harley for help, and the initiative would immediately fall into Harley's hands. Even though she hadn't been a psychologist for many years, Harley Quinn was still instinctively using techniques to influence their master-subordinate relationship through language.

So, Chen Tao said:

"No."

"What's going on? I mean...? You don't want...? You don't need...?"

Harley Quinn was still trying, and Chen Tao quietly watched her pretend to be utterly incredulous.

These conditions weren't important; what mattered was Ivy.

Chen Tao always knew how to grasp the main point. He needed to crush Harley Quinn's delusion of taking the initiative as much as possible.

"I don't make deals with crazy people."

"Ahhhhh, a sociopath!" Harley clawed at her head in frustration.

"So-ci-o-path!"

"Oh my god, why does everyone get my identity wrong?!?"

She crossed her arms and jumped off the Batmobile.

"If you don't agree to my terms, why should I help you?"