Killer Croc

"Your Majesty, Crocodile King, I have spread the word as you instructed. I believe we will welcome new companions before long."

Deep in the sewers, a pale, stooped old man leaned on a cane as he reported recent developments to the hulking figure before him.

"I understand. Go get some rest. Let someone else report these things to me from now on. You're too old to be running around."

Sitting cross-legged on the ground, Waylon, Killer Croc, looked at the old man with a trace of helplessness in his voice.

"No, no, no, Your Majesty. You needn't worry about these old bones. I'm doing wonderfully."

As he spoke, the old man even tried to straighten his back, showing off what little strength he had left.

As a homeless man, and an elderly one at that, he was never going to survive this winter. In fact, if Killer Croc hadn't taken him in, the corpse collectors would probably have dragged him away already.

So, even if it was only to repay that kindness, he had to demonstrate his worth before the great Crocodile King and prove that he wasn't a useless burden.

"All right, off you go. I need to rest."

Gently putting a stop to the old man's efforts, Waylon made up a flimsy excuse and sent him back to the settlement, leaving himself alone in his "palace."

"Ah..."

Waylon sighed helplessly. He wasn't quite sure whether he had made the right choice.

All he'd wanted was somewhere to call home in this malicious world. He hadn't expected to gather so many people around him by accident, let alone establish a Sewer Kingdom.

He didn't even know whether he could be a good Crocodile King.

"So you're the Crocodile King?"

A hoarse, chilling voice suddenly interrupted Waylon's thoughts. He sprang to his feet and saw that a man dressed like a bat had appeared a short distance in front of him without his noticing.

"You're... Batman?"

Batman didn't respond, tacitly confirming it.

"I've heard of you, Batman. Tell me, why aren't you staying up on the surface sucking blood? What do you want in my kingdom?"

Meeting another urban legend on par with himself for the first time, Waylon approached and studied Batman curiously. Batman, in turn, scrutinized the crocodilian monster before him.

He stood over three meters tall, with a total length of four and a half meters including his tail. Reptilian scales like a crocodile's covered his entire body, and his skull was distinctly different from a normal human's.

He could communicate normally and seemed to possess ordinary human intelligence, making him far smarter than Solomon Grundy.

So what exactly was he? A monster of unknown origin like Solomon Grundy? The product of a failed experiment? Or perhaps an extraterrestrial creature?

None of that mattered for now. The immediate priority was to find out where the homeless people had gone.

"Why are you gathering homeless people?"

Waylon froze for a moment at Batman's question, then gave a disdainful laugh.

He had indeed heard the rumors about Batman. Supposedly, he was a knight who fought for justice in the darkness. But Waylon didn't believe that nonsense. There were no righteous knights in this world.

So Waylon didn't think Batman was concerned about the whereabouts of the homeless. It seemed more likely that he was using them as an excuse to give him trouble.

"What does me gathering homeless people have to do with you, Batman?"

"What have you done to them?"

"What's it to you? Even if I caught them to eat them, that's none of your business, is it?"

Hearing that, Batman concluded that Waylon had no intention of talking things through. Without another word, he instantly hurled several Batarangs at his eyes.

Every Batarang struck Waylon's eyes with perfect accuracy, but Waylon did nothing except close them, blocking every last one.

Seeing that they had left nothing more than faint white marks on his scales, Batman knew this would be a difficult opponent.

"If that's all you've got, then die!"

Returning the favor, Waylon threw a punch with unimaginable speed just as Batman prepared his second attack, sending him flying despite his full equipment and combined weight of over two hundred kilograms.

For an instant, Batman felt as though he'd been hit by a fully loaded bus. He slammed into the wall like a cannonball, embedding himself in it.

Although the Batsuit provided powerful impact absorption, the blow still hurt badly.

Batman could feel that the forearm he'd raised across his chest had suffered a fracture. His ribs and internal organs had also taken a substantial impact, disrupting his breathing for several seconds.

He's far stronger than Bane, almost as strong as Solomon Grundy... no, he might be even stronger.

Batman knew perfectly well that Waylon hadn't put his full strength into that punch. His true strength might surpass even Solomon Grundy's. He was a monster through and through.

"ROAR!!!"

Having gained the upper hand, Waylon wasn't about to surrender his advantage. He roared and lunged forward, his enormous bulk looking especially outsized in the narrow sewer.

He's fast and agile. His attacks are clearly theatrical. He hasn't had professional training.

Recognizing the disparity in strength, Batman chose not to keep meeting him head-on. Instead, he used his smaller frame to dodge and weave through the sewer, keeping his opponent occupied.

As he maneuvered, he continued observing the Crocodile King and gathering information.

"What, is dodging all you can do?!"

After fighting for a while and realizing he couldn't even touch his opponent, Waylon grew deeply frustrated and began hurling insults at Batman.

Batman continued to ignore him. He simply seized an opening and quietly drew a miniature pistol.

"Heh, what? You think that little toy can stop me... AAAH!!!"

Before he could finish, a powerful electric current tore through Waylon's body. Countless bright blue sparks flickered over him, making him howl in agony.

Just as I thought. He's still a carbon-based life-form.

Although Waylon looked terrifying, he was still made of flesh, so electric shocks remained highly effective.

Incidentally, the stun gun in Batman's hand was actually a modified version of the electric-shock lipstick he'd swiped from Zuo Ci. Even Batman hadn't expected something so small to release such terrifying electrical power.

When the brief shock ended, the massive jolt had knocked Waylon unconscious. White smoke kept rising from his enormous body, making him look as though he'd been cooked.

He weighs around two tons. The strength provided by the Batsuit should be enough to drag him.

Hmm?

Just as Batman was considering how to drag Waylon away, a gunshot broke the silence of the sewer.

After easily dodging the bullet, Batman discovered that a crowd had emerged from behind Waylon. There were men and women, young and old, all holding weapons and glaring furiously at him.

Although their weapons were visibly old and defective, with even some crude homemade guns among them, the fierce presence they radiated was anything but ordinary.