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🕑 Added 2025-07-11 16:45:52 +0000 UTCChapter 206: The Beast That Doesn't Eat People
In Waylon Jones's memory, the words "parentless runt" and "crawling freak" pretty much defined his entire childhood.
While plenty of folks around him used those terms, they didn't really cut him too deep. He'd gotten used to the green scales that would pop up sometimes, and his nails and teeth getting sharper day by day.
These non-human traits led to the neighborhood kids shunning him, bullying from classmates at school, and cold remarks from teachers during class. The indifferent attitudes of others made him lonely and withdrawn from a young age, lacking friends, but he hadn't really shown any criminal tendencies back then.
His first real step into becoming a criminal actually started with his alcoholic aunt.
"Parentless runt" and "crawling freak" threaded through his whole childhood, but the person who used those words the most was exactly his aunt, Flowers. From the time he was adopted by his aunt, Waylon's memory of "home" was probably just her liquor bottles and endless yelling. He spent the most time at her place, so he got called those names by his aunt the most.
"If you wanna make it outta Gotham alive, you scrape this off right now!"
His aunt would often slam the door and leave in a huff, leaving Waylon with a rough, uneven shell or a rock. According to her, if Waylon wanted to survive in Gotham City until he was an adult, he had to scrape off the green scales on his body and make himself look human.
But it hurt like hell. Every time the cold, hard edge of the rock scraped hard against his skin, peeling off pieces of green scale, Waylon felt a pain that went straight to the bone. He felt like a fish on a cutting board, messed with and sliced up by a chef with a cleaver.
Even when blood oozed from where the scales were scraped off, even when Waylon screamed, his aunt didn't care. Only when Waylon visibly struggled and resisted would she angrily throw the rock at him and just leave.
So, if you asked if he had family, maybe this aunt who raised him was his only family. But she never really stopped to think about the consequences of constantly abusing a lonely, naturally wild teenager who was despised and abandoned by society.
To put it simply, she got what was coming to her.
"You might not know this, but the first life he took was his aunt's."
"Harvey Dent, you're pushing it."
"Why so defensive? Did killing her by accident hurt you? But according to the files at the precinct, it was just an accidental fall. Nobody knows about that gentle shove you gave her in a fit of rage that was enough to send her right out the window."
Killer Croc's golden vertical pupils shifted, looking at Two-Face with incredibly cold eyes, like a cold-blooded beast watching its prey.
"Is that so strange? I'm Gotham's former District Attorney. It's not just your file, Joker's, Riddler's, Ventriloquist's... I've seen all your files. The cops at GCPD might not be the brightest, but I'm not stupid."
Harvey lightly tossed the coin in his hand. "I didn't expose you, but I couldn't save you either. If you wanna hate me, I guess that's fair enough."
"...Right." After a few seconds of silence, Killer Croc suddenly pointed a claw at Harvey. The tip almost touched his forehead. "If you're really as smart as you say you are, why didn't you save the others who should have been saved?"
"That circus owner? While the punishment you gave him was certainly way more than he deserved, he wasn't exactly a good person."
"Not him."
"Hold on, hold on, you killed the circus owner?" Cody butted in again. "Wasn't that the place where you did your wrestling gigs?"
Killer Croc, distracted by the interruption, naturally pulled back his claw. "He didn't die. I bit off one of his arms – like I told you before, it's not like I haven't tasted human blood."
"I'm guessing you didn't eat that arm."
"...No."
"So why'd you bite his hand off?"
"Why you got so many questions?"
Cody pulled another lamb leg out from under his black robe.
"How in the world do you hide so much weird stuff under that robe?"
"Don't ask, just eat."
So Killer Croc went back to gnawing on the lamb leg.
"That was before I was an adult too," he crunched on the bone, answering Cody. "After my aunt died, I was just a wild kid with nobody looking out for him."
"Nobody wants to adopt a kid covered in scales. And the school definitely didn't wanna keep a freak like me with sharp teeth and claws. I didn't have much choice. Had to find a way to make a living."
"And then you ran into that circus?"
"And then I ran into that circus."
After a pause, Killer Croc continued, "Did you ever think about something? If I really went and competed in pro wrestling matches, who could even last one round with me in the ring?"
Cody looked at his massive size, the terrifying muscles bulging under his scales, and the thick, powerful tail behind him, and subconsciously shook his head. "I figure with your strength, you could probably just punch someone and kill 'em straight up."
"Turns out, every boxing and wrestling ring in Gotham back then, above ground and underground, came to the exact same conclusion you did. Even in the circus, nobody was willing to fight me."
"So, at first, the circus just treated me like a sideshow freak, a living alligator-man, a monster. But they definitely didn't treat me like a person."
"Then what happened?"
"Then, I went back to doing the things I hated most."
Killer Croc's tone sounded calm, like he was talking about an experience that had nothing to do with him.
"To make myself seem like a person, I made myself bleed. I tore off my skin piece by piece, pulled out my scales, cut off my tail, filed down my sharp teeth, clipped my claws. I did everything Flowers did to me, to myself, but harder, more completely."
"I've forgotten how it felt that day. Maybe it hurt a lot, maybe it didn't hurt at all, I don't know... And then I went to sleep hoping I'd turn back into a normal person the next day, with round pupils, flesh-colored skin, no scales, no tail."
Saying that, he actually laughed.
"How stupid. I should've known the outcome before I even did it."
"My healing factor grew right along with my scales and claws. Since the scales I pulled off as a kid grew back, how could I ever get rid of them when I grew up?"
Chapter 207: Born Human
"Anyway, you can probably guess how it turned out."
Killer Croc tossed the last bit of bone into his mouth and clapped his hands. "That day, I woke up and had turned back into the Lizard Man. The dark green skin and scales had grown back, even my tail had regenerated, and my claws and teeth were fully restored. I went to the circus like usual, and nobody could even tell what I'd gone through the night before."
"Then what?"
"Then I gave up. I went back to my main gig, pleasing the crowd in the ring—that was probably over ten years ago."
"Holy cow, buddy, look! Alligators fighting alligators!"
"This is kinda scary..."
Up in the ring, there was a specially made, oversized tank. Inside the tank were one giant crocodile-shaped alligator and another giant human-shaped alligator.
The audience below cheered, buzzing with excitement, yelling wildly at the tank. Most of them looked shocked and curious, while a tiny few looked worried and uneasy.
The two monsters in the tank roared, clawed, and fought. One opened its massive jaws and bit down on the other's arm, while the other extended a huge claw and savagely struck the other's body.
Yeah, what else but one monster could go head-to-head with another? Ever since he arrived at the circus, Waylon's opponent had always been the same one: this alligator named "Al."
Ed, dressed in a suit, stood to the side holding a microphone. He had zero interest in what was happening in the tank, his eyes glued only to the faces of the audience below. In his eyes, every cheering face turned into stacks of green bills, flowing endlessly into his pockets. With Waylon as his cash cow, the circus hit it big, and show revenues skyrocketed. This made him happier and happier, but also greedier.
And for fame and a gimmick, he also gave Waylon another name.
When Waylon climbed out of the tank, cradling his bitten right arm, the alligator inside was already out cold. Ed walked up beside him with the spotlight and raised his left hand.
"Today's winner is—KILLER CROC!!!"
The audience below immediately erupted in cheers.
Waylon stood under the spotlight, but nobody noticed the look on his crocodile face, and nobody cared what he actually thought of that name.
"Alright folks, please stick around for the circus's next act!"
Cody listened to the story and chimed in, "That sounds like it hurt."
"It hurt alright," Killer Croc replied.
"Hey, couldn't you have gone a little easier on Al? That gator cost me a cool five hundred bucks! Look what you did to him."
Waylon sat on a stool while a wrestler from the circus bandaged the wound on his right hand. While no bones were broken, Waylon's outer skin and some muscle were still torn through by the bite, and it really stung.
"Ow... sorry, Ed," he answered dully.
"Forget it. Here's your cut, take it."
Seeing the forty bucks Ed tossed over, Waylon was stunned.
"Why forty dollars? Shouldn't it be a hundred for every show?"
"Idiot, the deal was a hundred when we talked about it a while back. Now, I'm giving you forty, and you should just be grateful and take it."
Waylon's beast-like vertical pupils shifted to look at Ed.
"Come on, Waylon Jones, what other choice do you have? What else can a monster like you do? Your name is 'Killer Croc,' you gonna open a dental practice in town or something?"
"Besides, just look at you, these disgusting scales, these beastly teeth and claws. You don't deserve anything more."
At that moment, another wrestler who couldn't stand listening turned and walked out of the backend. While sympathetic to Waylon, she didn't dare cross the boss either.
Seeing Waylon not argue back, Ed became even more brazen. He held out a stack of hundred-dollar bills in front of Waylon, shaking them like he was teasing a pet. "See this? This is the part that show made. Forty bucks is your share. Now, if you wanna earn more, I might just have a way for you."
As he spoke, a sadistic grin appeared on his face.
"It's simple, Waylon. All you gotta do is let Al bite you a few more times next show—arm, hand, leg, stomach—anywhere's fine. You're a freak anyway, you'll be healed by the next day."
"I know exactly what the crowd wants to see. They love seeing some blood in the water. The more blood, the more hyped they get. If you bleed a little more every time from now on, we can make more money—and your cut goes from forty to a hundred, what do you say?"
Waylon still didn't speak. He just stared fixedly at Ed, his face blank.
"Oh, that look's terrifying—Alright, alright, take the money." Ed pulled a few hundred dollars from the stack and slapped Waylon's face with them. "Come on, give us a smile. Remember to show your teeth. Isn't that what you bare them at me for? But remember, there's an old saying, don't bite the hand that feeds you..."
Waylon knew exactly what Ed was doing. He'd seen Ed take a whip to Al, who was hung up, and then feed him some meat. In just a few weeks, Al had become completely submissive.
But I'm not Al.
He thought this to himself, then suddenly opened his mouth, revealing his fangs.
"After I bit off Ed's arm, I just bolted. Didn't take long before I ended up on Gotham PD's wanted list. There was nowhere for me on the surface, so I had to live in the sewers. I tried eating rats to survive, but I quickly realized my gut just couldn't accept that kind of food."
"What happened after that, you already know—I ran with the underworld, was a robber, killed people, started gangs. Funny thing is, my body was actually pretty well-suited for brawling and violence. The wrong path came a lot easier than the right one."
Speaking of which, the Crocodile Man glanced at Cody and said to him seriously, "I was born this way, meant to have scales and sharp claws, teeth and a tail. It was decided by my genes. My only mistake was trying to be a human."
"How can that be a mistake?" Cody replied just as seriously. "You just couldn't be a normal human. But you have human dignity and values, human emotions. You speak like a person, wear clothes, you can read and write. You just have some condition, which is why you look different from others, that's all."
"Honestly, I think whether someone counts as 'human' just depends on whether they act like one. To borrow a line from a white-haired old guy I really like, 'Even without mutations, some people lose their humanity.'"
"Your only mistake wasn't being born, it was committing crimes—that's a mistake only a 'person' can make."
Chapter 208: Two-Face's Incredible Infiltration
"Crime itself is a failure of being 'human'."
"Don't be ridiculous," Harvey Dent cut in from the side. "We work for the Riddler, we're supervillains. And the Riddler has hundreds, maybe even thousands, of regular criminals working for him. Get your position straight before you talk."
"Wrong is just plain wrong," Cody rolled his eyes. "A normal person who commits a crime should be aware they're a bad guy. I mean, if you deny that, does a criminal suddenly become a good person?"
"My biggest strength is being good at slacking off. Or, put another way, being brave enough to admit things. As long as I admit my problems, I have a reason to slack off."
At this point, he pulled three chestnuts from his black robe and offered them. "Take chestnuts, for example. For a long time, two things really bothered me. The first was being lazy. My mom always said my room looked like a pigsty and that my schedule was a bit like a pig's too. To be honest, I also felt my habit of staying up late and sleeping in wasn't that healthy, and my room really was kind of messy."
"The second thing was being short. Always been short since I was a kid, like a winter melon. Every time I played with the neighbors' kids or went to school, there were always a few bigger kids calling me 'short winter melon.' They kept calling me that, and pretty soon, the other kids joined in. Even when I got older, I was still short. Because of that, I even lost a girlfriend."
"My mom bought me tons of milk, made me drink it non-stop growing up, but I still didn't get any taller. Though, ironically, my mom never nagged me about my height problem."
Cody shrugged. "From a certain day on, I had to live alone. So I started trying to go to bed early and wake up early, and I started cleaning my own place. So that first problem went away."
Killer Croc just tossed the chestnuts straight into his mouth. Even though he could taste them, peeling them was way too much of a hassle.
"And then what?"
"Then I stopped being bothered by it."
Cody shrugged. "That's just how I am. Being short isn't my fault. Since nothing I did helped, I figured I didn't need to do anything about it, even if it meant losing a girlfriend. After all, she didn't like short guys, and I'm not tall. We just weren't meant to be."
He patted Killer Croc on the back. "We've both made peace with ourselves, right? You can only figure out how to get better by facing who you are. Some things, we just can't change. But hey, at least they're not gonna kill us. Even though they're kind of annoying, at least we can get by."
"But you're not short now."
"My body got enhanced later... underwent secondary development, or something. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is, I made peace with my height. Your problem is maybe a bit more life-threatening, but you still survived in Gotham City. I guess that means you've made peace with this city."
"I don't exactly like this kind of peace," Killer Croc sighed. "If it weren't for my friends in the sewers, I wouldn't accept living this kind of life with no light."
"Friends?"
"The castoffs of this city—the poor, the sick, the scavengers, the street kids, or the criminals who didn't want to join gangs.
Two-Face summarized nonchalantly, "Back in Falcone's day, this city had plenty of unlucky souls. They either weren't very obedient or weren't worth much, so they were just treated like garbage and swept into the city's sewers. Later on, a monster with an alligator face showed up in that pile of trash. The surface gangs back then never dreamed how troublesome a garbage heap with a king would become."
"A king?"
"They crowned him king and established an underground kingdom."
"Uh, you're not talking about some story from the Bible or something... right?"
"I'm afraid we don't have much time for stories."
Two-Face drew the pistol from his waist, gazing at the tall buildings before them. "The Falcone family snipers, controlled by the Joker, are up there. There are several people watching from every direction, forming a very strong crossfire. The Ventriloquist, our target this time, is hidden in the tallest building."
"Alright," Cody shrugged. "So how do we get in?"
"Why would we fight our way in?"
Harvey looked at Cody like he was an idiot. "We just walk in."
"???"
Cody scratched his head and looked at Harvey, but Killer Croc didn't seem surprised at all. He also patted Cody's back. "If you want to be safe, waiting outside is fine too."
That slap almost sent Cody flying. He grimaced and replied, "If I mess up, the Riddler might just want to hit me. But if I don't do anything, he might just take this opportunity to shoot me — or do something even worse."
"Aren't you an orphan? How could he do something worse? Torture you?"
"Nah, he'll dock my pay."
"Well, that's pretty relatable..."
Harvey and Killer Croc really did just brazenly walk down the street behind the building and then into the building itself. Cody followed closely, and it wasn't until Killer Croc grabbed two people and sprinted up the stairs that he subconsciously asked,
"How'd you do that? Did you take out all those snipers?"
"Having several snipers set up in every direction means you only need to buy off the snipers on one side to sneak into the building. And the Riddler just happens to not be short on cash right now."
"...I thought you'd use your cleverness, or Killer Croc's super strength and defense."
"You want me to climb the outside of the building to the roof while getting shot at by a bunch of snipers? No way, not happening." Waylon shook his head. "Getting sprayed by bullets doesn't feel good. Let's just take the stairs."
"When you have money, solving problems by spending money is called cleverness. When you don't have enough money, a clever plan is called cleverness," Harvey answered calmly. "Cleverness is about playing to your strengths and avoiding your weaknesses, not making reckless gambles. Now, let's talk about how to play to our strengths and avoid our weaknesses."
"Our target this time is the Ventriloquist, you guys obviously know that. So in a bit, Waylon will provide cover, and I'll handle the negotiation and attracting attention. As for you, Freaky Biker Guy, we all know about that alley fight you had. You're a dead shot at mid-range. In a bit, you're in charge of shooting down Scarface. You know who Scarface is, right?"
"Not really," Cody answered honestly. He wasn't lying. When it came to characters who hadn't shown up in the American comic book movies, he was pretty much clueless.
"It's that wooden dummy on his hand, named Woody. If you look closely, you can see a scar on the wooden dummy's face, that's why he's called Scarface."
Chapter 209: We're Gonna Tear It Up
Arnold had been feeling uneasy all night.
"It'll be fine, it'll be fine... Woody, we're safe here, right?"
He mumbled to the wooden dummy in his hands. The dummy had a ghastly white paint job, stark red lipstick, and bulging, round eyes. There was a deep scratch on the right side of its face, looking just like a scar on a human face.
Though it was just a dummy, in the dim light it seemed terrifyingly eerie, with a creepy, almost-human feel to it.
"Arnold, my Arnold, my useless old friend." The dummy's head twisted a full 180 degrees to face the bald, balding man holding it. Its jaw flapped open and shut, letting out a voice full of disdain, while the man's mouth didn't move at all. If this were on a stage, the audience would probably be clapping for his ventriloquism act.
But in reality, the man known as "the Ventriloquist" wasn't making any sound right now, and the dummy's voice wasn't coming from his stomach; it was coming right out of the dummy's wooden mouth.
"From the moment I saw you in prison, I knew you were a goddamn piece of garbage who couldn't even lean against a wall. I just didn't realize you could be so goddamn rotten even now. Arnold, listen to me, lift that useless bald head of yours and look at me."
Arnold hung his head glumly, enduring the criticism. He was clearly an old man with entirely white hair, but at this moment, he looked like a child, drooping his head and taking the dummy's abuse. It was clear that in this room with no one else around, he didn't need to perform ventriloquism or puppetry tricks for anyone. Which meant he genuinely believed this dummy was alive.
Or maybe... maybe it was alive?
"I said, LOOK AT ME!"
The dummy's sharp voice suddenly screamed right in his ear. Arnold jumped, startled. The timid little old man was absolutely terrified, losing his wits. He immediately raised his head, looking at the dummy in his hands with panic in his eyes.
"You're the goddamn Ventriloquist, and I'm the goddamn Scarface, you hear me, Arnold? The Ventriloquist! You and me, we're running Gotham right now! Someday, even that crazy psycho the Joker will be crushed under our feet! We're the Gotham mob bosses! With me, Scarface, around, we're destined to become the crime kings of this city!"
The dummy raised its hands over its head, making Arnold's hands lift it higher too. Only then did the dummy's body fully appear in the light. It wore specially made miniature black leather shoes, a full pinstripe suit, a tie, white gloves, a red rose pinned to its chest, and a fedora on its head. It actually looked quite the part of a Mafia don.
Each of its hands now held a miniature machine gun, and it was laughing wildly, crazily. It looked exactly like a deranged person having an episode with their doll.
However, in reality, the opposite was true. Arnold usually hung on Woody, the dummy's, every word, following all his commands, and this had made him one of Gotham City's supervillains.
Though he definitely was crazy.
"Woody, don't yell at me..." he whined and started crying, looking absolutely wronged.
"Shut your mouth!" Woody shrieked. "Idiot! Someone's broken in! Are those snipers outside completely useless?!"
He aimed the machine gun at the door and squeezed the trigger. Rat-a-tat-tat went the rapid gunfire. The thin metal door panel was immediately riddled like a beehive, and in moments it was completely shot to pieces.
At the same time, footsteps sounded from both sides of the room. The Falcone family goons heard the gunfire and immediately rushed out. This was the warning signal Boss Scarface had told them about beforehand.
BOOM! Just as the intruder outside the door was about to be caught in a pincer attack, the room's wall came crashing down. Amidst the flying dust and collapsing bricks, a terrifying, hunched-over monster burst right out. Its golden, beast-like vertical pupils glowed in the darkness, its arms as thick as a grown man's waist bulging with powerful muscles. Its body was covered in dark green scales that shimmered under the moonlight.
Not to mention the thick, long tail, and the sharp teeth and claws.
"Ki-ki-ki-ki..."
"KILLER CROC!" Woody finished Arnold's words, which had become a stutter from fear. He yelled viciously and loudly, "You looking to die?! Everyone, focus fire! I'm gonna make shoes out of him!"
"Hold on, hold on." A voice suddenly rang out from Killer Croc's chest. Two-Face stepped out from behind the arm Croc was shielding him with and calmly adjusted his two-tone suit.
"Woody, we're here to cut a deal with you today. No need to be so hostile. Who knows, maybe we'll be teammates in the future."
"What, is the great Two-Face scared of dying?"
"Aren't you? If you weren't afraid of death, why would you join the Joker?"
"We're not the same, you idiot."
Woody's sharp laughter echoed through the night sky. "I'm a man with big ambitions, unlike you. I won't bow down to anyone just to save my skin. Once the Joker takes Gotham, I'm going to replace him and become the master of Gotham!"
"Not good..."
Harvey's expression changed. Woody saying something like that so brazenly meant that everyone on both sides was already his man. Otherwise, if even one person tipped off the Joker, the Ventriloquist and Scarface would be dead first.
The original plan was a decapitation strike, taking out the boss first. But if the people on both sides weren't just hired hands clocking in, but were loyal to Scarface, then after taking out the dummy with a shot, the three of them would immediately face a desperate barrage of gunfire from everyone else.
Do we fight?
In a flash, he had made up his mind.
"In that case, we have a basis for cooperation. You want the Joker gone? No problem," he said smoothly. "I don't care who the boss is, I just don't want to be with the Riddler anymore. He's sickeningly phony and even tried to recruit Batman, and Batman is my mortal enemy... So, let's use this to make the decision."
He took out a black and white two-sided coin and showed it to Woody. "Heads, we finish what we came to do. Tails, I join up with the Joker's outfit and work for you."
The dummy's eyes rolled, and its jaw opened and closed. "You got a deal."
So Harvey immediately tossed the coin in his hand.
Clink Everyone's eyes followed the coin, shimmering with a strange light, as it flew upwards.
"NOW!"
Harvey suddenly spun to the side. Standing right behind him was Cody, his pitch-black cloak blending into the night, a ghastly white ghoul mask staring back, truly terrifying and twisted like a demon from a horror movie.
BANG!
Chapter 210: Boss, That Freaky Biker Guy is Back Again
Silence immediately fell over the whole place after the gunshot.
Cody blew away the wisp of smoke from the gun barrel, twirled the gun expertly, and tucked it back into his waistband.
Two-Face stepped back a few paces, caught up to the coin rolling along the ground, picked it up, and shook it sadly at the gunmen. "Sorry, guys, it landed neither heads nor tails. Nothing I can do."
"No, no, no!"
Arnold cried out in despair, wailing. He picked up the wooden dummy that had been shot down from the ground. Now, Woody had a bullet hole in his head. He wasn't making sounds anymore, his eyes had stopped rolling, and it was like he really had just turned back into a regular dummy after being shot clean through the forehead.
"No! Woody, don't leave me!"
He clutched the dummy and sobbed uncontrollably, completely ignoring everyone else around him. He didn't even give an order for revenge. This was Arnold's real personality – timid, afraid of trouble, even a bit weak, incapable of doing anything bad on his own.
He was only the complete supervillain, the Ventriloquist, when he had the Woody dummy in his hand.
"I think you guys might have some kind of serious issue," Cody sighed, slowly stepping back. "That thing wasn't even good-looking. That creepy dummy face was giving me the whole 'amusement park effect' thing."
"I think you mean the uncanny valley," Killer Croc chimed in. "You should read more."
"Something like that, the meaning's the same, you know what I mean. How could you guys think of making such a weird dummy your boss? It's not even alive; it's just like, another personality of the Ventriloquist or something."
"How dare you! How dare you insult Boss Woody!"
"Boss Woody will make a comeback! Kill these three jerks first to avenge him!"
"Wait, wait, if your boss is gonna make a comeback, wouldn't avenging him seem a little weird...?"
Cody was still talking, but his feet had already retreated from where he'd fired back to stand in front of Killer Croc, shoulder-to-shoulder with Two-Face.
"Forget about codes of honor with him! Everyone, pile on!"
Seeing everyone raise their submachine guns, Two-Face yelled, "Waylon!"
Killer Croc responded instantly, his massive body charging forward and shielding Two-Face and Cody with his thick arms. The next second, a storm of dense bullets completely covered him. Sparks flew as metal rounds scraped against his tough scales. Some bullets pierced his outer skin but were immediately stopped by his incredibly strong, tough muscles, only managing to penetrate an inch or two. For Killer Croc's size, that was just a surface wound.
Although the damage wasn't severe, Killer Croc's blood still splattered with the bullet rain, and the pain shooting through his body made him extremely uncomfortable. So he charged forward at full speed, heading straight for Arnold, who was kneeling and crying.
"Sob, sob, sob..."
"Oh god..."
What the three of them didn't know was that while they were facing the hail of bullets, the Riddler on the other side was laughing.
"Finally..."
He sat in the lobby, listening to the voices of Cody and the other two coming through his phone, and summarized to the other supervillains in the lobby, "This time, I win."
He looked quite confident and in control, like he'd planned it all out.
The other supervillains listened calmly, not seeming surprised by the Riddler's eavesdropping. Cooperation between supervillains was always full of scheming anyway. The Riddler's move wasn't unusual among villains. Whoever was capable could just find the listening device on themselves. This was the silent struggle between bad guys.
Blasting the Riddler for eavesdropping would only make you look stupid and incapable. That kind of character would obviously become the recognized best cannon fodder for everyone else to fool.
Clearly, the Riddler had finally won one today. That Freaky Biker Guy finally wouldn't have a chance to run back by selling out his teammates again.
Whether he successfully retreated or got killed there, Killer Croc and Two-Face were in the same boat as him. Killer Croc even had a higher chance of surviving than he did.
Poison Ivy listened with interest, and casually counted the other supervillains in the room.
Clayface, Mr. Zsasz, Firefly, plus herself. Without even realizing it, the Riddler's crew had been reduced to this. Of course, the Joker's situation was even worse. Man-Bat, Mr. Freeze, Mad Hatter, Penguin, Solomon Grundy. He only had these five cards left, and the regular goons were practically negligible at this point.
Just then, the intense gunfire from the eavesdropping device suddenly stopped. Killer Croc's voice rang out again.
"If you pull the trigger again, I won't die, but your boss will definitely be turned into Swiss cheese. Everyone, drop your guns."
With the sound of guns being successively placed on the ground, Killer Croc let out a sigh of relief. "Now, let's get out of here."
"No," a deep, hoarse voice cut in. "You're all coming back to prison with me."
Huh?
Everyone's eyes immediately focused on the Riddler's phone. Of course, everyone recognized that voice.
The Riddler's expression suddenly twisted.
"Bat! Man!"
He ground out the words through clenched teeth, but after a moment, he took a deep breath and said coldly, "Since he showed up there, that Freaky Biker Guy probably isn't coming back. It's a shame, but it's a necessary sacrifice."
However, along with the sounds of cracking bones, Cody's whispered voice came through the walkie-talkie he wore close to him, reaching the Riddler's ears.
"Waylon, I feel like we're not gonna make it out today."
"Running together, we definitely won't make it," Waylon replied in a low voice. "But if someone covers the rear, there's still a chance."
"Waylon, I'll cover you, you run."
"No, you're the messenger. I'll cover you, you run."
"But..."
"Waylon's right," Two-Face cut in. "It's the best plan. Only he has the ability to fight Batman head-on and potentially escape. We don't."
"...Smart," the Riddler paused, then added to save face. "Waylon's approach is smart. At least two of us can successfully escape."
"Harvey, I'm not letting you get away again. Not this time."
WHOOSH This was the sound of a bat-grapple gun rope cutting through the air, then grabbing its target, and finally tightening with force.
At this moment, Cody's exclamation rang out again. "No! Harvey!"
"Go!"
With a loud roar from Killer Croc, another grapple gun sound rang out.
"Waylon!"
"I've got the grapple! You go first!"
Then, someone seemed to crash through a wall.
"No!"
"No!"
At this moment, the Riddler and Cody were in perfect sync.
Pain. It was too painful.
The Riddler sat back in his chair with a look of despair on his face. Everyone could tell he was probably a bit worn out at the moment.
About twenty minutes later, one of the Riddler's soldiers walked in and delivered a message to him.
"Boss, that Freaky Biker Guy is back again."
