Teatime With A Crocodile
There was knocking. Against his manhole cover.
The one closest to his nesting alcove.
Waylon Jones stood up and growled.
Whoever was disrupting his peace, was a certified idiot. And he ate idiots for lunch.
The tall mutated man lunged to yank the manhole cover down, and blinked.
A happy pair of brown eyes bore into his own slitted pupils, and a happy voice chirruped out to him.
"Hello!! I brought you dinner!" The stupid little human thrust his hand down, and extended a large picnic hamper. Waylon automatically took the vessel as it was handed to him, very confused about what was happening.
Then, the boy turned around and climbed down into the sewer.
Waylon Jones stood in complete disbelief as the waif of a human being grabbed the hamper back from his slack grip, and began bustling around his home.
As the boy opened the lids off the containers, the yummy aromas of hearty meat stew filled the space.
"My name is Peter by the way. I know who you are. You're Killer Croc. Mr Joker told me that you would be in, and that you don't get much company down here. So here I am!!" Peter began to prattle on as he produced some fine china and utensils from the bottom of the hamper.
Mr Joker?!
Waylon stared at the intruder. This little kid had met Joker, and lived to tell the tale. There was a subtle warning in his message too, Joker had claimed the boy. Telling Peter what to say, had let the reptilian man know that this boy was not to be harmed. Joker had taken him under his wing. This boy was obviously something very special. Waylon sat back down in his nesting alcove and watched Peter dish up the stew onto the plates. Rice and broth were piled in bowls, and warm crisp bread was placed next to them.
"Sit. It's time to eat." Peter gestured to the two man dining chair and table set Waylon had managed to pillage from the junkyard and spruce up in his free time. Waylon obeyed the command, and sat opposite the tiny child.
Peter dug into his bowl, and Killer Croc followed suit.
"I was telling Mr Joker the other day that we really need to do something about the loneliness pandemic in Gotham. I'm new to the area, so it's really taken me by surprise. Where I come from in New York, it's very much a community, you know? So to come to this very drab and dreary place, it's kind of disheartening. But I never let myself stay disheartened for long. I'm going to do something about it. And if that means dinner with everyone when I can, so be it." The boy finally paused to shovel a couple of spoonfuls of food into his mouth, before talking again. "Mr Delmar- he helped us out when my uncle died- gives me a free sandwich every now and then. Then, there's the churro lady. She gives me free churros all the time. And then there's the guy on the other side of town who gives the little kids free ice cream in the summer, because their parents may not have been able to afford the ice cream along with everything else they need to get. Being a parent is a lot. Not that I would know. I don't have any kids. I don't have a girlfriend or anything like that. Well, there was this one girl, but I never did anything like that with her. Besides, she totally thought I was a loser, not boyfriend material. Plus, I literally never had the time for doing nasty nasty things..."
Waylon raised a brow as he mopped the bottom of his bowl with the last of his bread. Loser was definitely something to associate with the kid. It was a random Wednesday night, and he'd knocked on a manhole cover in the middle of the road, to come down to dinner with a known mass murderer. Loser didn't actually capture the insanity that was this kid's mind. And if what he had said earlier was correct, he had managed to have multiple conversations with the Joker. The maddest of them all. And also, didn't he say he came from New York? Waylon watched Peter natter on, wondering why the hell he hadn't gone back. If he had other options besides living here, he'd have been up and out in thirty nano seconds. Gotham wouldn't see his speckled ass again.
"...what do you think Mr Croc?" Peter asked, eyes hopeful as he looked up at the man. Waylon shook his head slightly and tried to remember what the kid had asked him. "You weren't listening were you?" Peter sighed and shook his head, standing up to wash the empty dishes.
"My name is Waylon." The man introduced. "Croc's what they call me up there. Here in my own home, call me by the name I was given by my mother." Peter nodded frantically, and then began pulling even more containers out of his hamper.
"I was asking if you'd like me to visit once a week for dinner. You're so lovely, and I'm sure having something to look forward to every week would do you some good. I'd love to see you Mr Waylon, I really would!!" Peter paused from where he was dishing out some apple and blackberry crumble and custard into their respective clean bowls, to gaze upon him with the deadliest puppy eyes ever. Waylon nodded, and Peter giggled.
Waylon internally sighed. His Wednesday evenings were about to become very interesting.
Nightwing was confused.
Redhood was confused.
They were both confused.
A boy had been spotted walking straight for a known crime location. The place Killer Croc lived. Oracle had picked up the suspicious activity on the traffic cams, and they had headed to where Killer Croc had last been sighted. They had expected frothing sewers, or bodies strewn about. What they had not expected, was to see a thin toddler knocking on the manhole cover, and heading inside when it was pulled open. Like he had been invited. Except he definitely had not been invited if the glimpse of Croc's face was anything to go by.
"So, that kid is definitely dead." Nightwing sighed.
"Yep." The voice modulator of the mask came from his red clad brother to his left. "And I was just having a good day."
"What is this? Red Hood, Nightwing- report." The gravely voice of Batman rang through the coms. "Did you say a dead child?"
Red Hood sighed. And now B was going to stick his nose in places it didn't belong.
"Yeah B." Nightwing replied. "Just got taken down into the sewer. The one we've been watching for Croc activity." The only reply was a singular grunt, and then a sigh.
"I'll be there in a moment. Hang tight, and stay down low. Who knows if he'll attack anyone else." Batman ordered.
"That's the thing B, Croc didn't attack him. The kid knocked on the door and went down willingly himself." Nightwing explained, sitting down on the roof ready for some good juicy hours of reconnaissance. Red Hood flopped down next to him.
"Calling that a door is awfully nice of you, Dickwing." Hood smirked under the mask. "The guy's not human enough for a home. Humans have homes, murderers have hovels. That, is a manhole cover protecting his hideout from the elements. And now? It's the final resting place of some poor kid who'll be missed by his doting parents, who through some bad luck- happen to be stuck in Gotham. Once we figure out just how and why that kid came here, we'll have some sad parents to hug once or twice, and then I have a nice warm bed calling my weary bones to rest."
Batman hummed over the com again. "Have care how you speak lad. That is a young child. We need to figure out what happened, yes, and then we need to tread delicately. Is there some kind of toxin that Croc has released that entices children to walk to their deaths, or is it something else? Something more sinister?"
The brothers sat in silence, letting his words wash over them. Basking in each other's presence, rare as it was to see Hood these days. Nightwing spent most of his time in Bludhaven, it was just his luck that on his night home, a kid was killed. Peaceful evening my ass. He sighed.
Batman arrived, and the three males lay in wait for an hour, just watching the manhole cover and the surrounding area. Oracle kept them updated on the movements of civilians and criminals around them, but nothing untoward was happening tonight. Besides this very strange incident.
They were then shocked when the manhole cover was pulled down, and a bag was thrown up and onto the road.
"This is it Dickwing. I'll shoot the motherfucker. Child murdering bastard." Red Hood pulled his sniper's rifle scope and trained it on the emerging head of hair. Wait. Hair?
"Put that down!!" Batman hissed, and pushed the muzzle of the rifle down.
The three vigilantes watched as Waylon Jones helped the tiny waif of a child out of the hole, and steadied him on his feet in the road.
"Thank you Mr Waylon. It was so lovely having tea with you. I can't wait to see you next week!! I'll make lasagne and garlic bread." A high pitched warble rang through the night air.The boy then lent in to hug the man.
Hug the man!!
They watched the boy pick up his bag and trot off down the street while Killer Croc waved him away.
Red Hood snorted. "What the actual fuck?!"