William didn't listen to Dad. He wasn't tired now, so why should he rest, now? And after what happened today, it was going to be hard to fall asleep for the time being. He couldn't head outside right now. Dad said he was going to stop by soon to see William, so he had to stay put. With no other choices left, he walked over to his mattress, and he pulled out a book on guitars and began reading. Dad first got the book for him a long time ago, when he first discovered music. They were prowling through the
city one night, looking for food, when William heard his first music. The tunes entranced him. He never heard anything this wondrous!

"Why are you going slack-jawed now?" Dad's harsh voice cutted across the melody.

"What's that noise?" William asked in amazement.

"What sound? The guitar?" Croc said.

"Yes! That! It sounds wonderful!" William said.

Dad snorted at that, looking slightly confused at his son's excitement.

"Nothing special about playing on a few strings." Croc said.

"I want to see it! Can we, Dad? Please?" said William, tugging at his dad's arm. Dad pulled his arm away from William.

"No. We can't stop now. We need to keep moving." Croc said.

"Aw, come on, Dad! I really wanna find out! Please?" William asked.

Dad looked torn, trying to decide whether to grant William's wish, or to crush the boy's curiosity. He sighed.

"Fine, but only for a minute." Croc said.

"Yes!" cheered William. They tracked the source of the music to a lone musician playing on the street, a guitar case full of money opened in front of him.  William stood awestruck at the sound the player was producing with his guitar. Dad noticed his expression, looking bemused.

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"You really enjoying this, aren't you, boy?" Croc said.

"I never heard anything like this before, Dad. I feel like I could listen to it all day," said William.

Dad hummed in thought at that. Not too long after, he pulled him away from the enchanting melody, much to William's disappointment. A week later, Dad bought him the book, telling him that it was the best to kill time while William was stuck here.

"I don't know about this. Some of the words look really hard," said William as thumbed through the pages.

"Then you best start now. If you love it enough, you'll pull through," said Dad.

Right now, William was halfway through the book. Just as he predicted, reading the book was a challenge, full of words that William didn't even know how to say. Whoever came up with words like "arpeggio" and "plectrum" were trying to have a real laugh at people as they figured out how to pronounce it. However, he enjoyed reading it. As he kept turning the pages that gave a brief explanation on its history and how to play it, he pictured himself getting his hands on one of those. Listening to those tunes was one thing, but being the one to make them would be something else! He imagined strumming the instrument, making the same colorful sounds that stopped him in his track a long time
ago. The sound of footsteps interrupted him from his
daydreaming. He snapped the book shut and shoved it in its hiding space under the mattress, then threw the cover over himself, pretending to be asleep.

"I know yer pretending, boy," Dad's voice rang out.
"Get up. We need to talk."

William shuddered at his voice, as he sounded furious. He got up from his bed, looking up to his
dad. Immediately, he wished he faked being asleep a little longer. Dad towered over him, looking displeased with him.

"You're back already?" said William.

"I just had a talk with our friend just now, and he said something that got my attention." The way Dad said that made his stomach drop.

"Oh. Um.." William tried to ask a question, but his mind went blank at that moment.

"He said that you got spotted by yourself outside our place last week," Dad's eyes narrowed in slits. "A little odd, don't you think? Don't remember taking you out at all last week."

"N-no." Aiden's voice quavered at that.

"William," Dad's voice turned dangerously low, "did you leave the sewer last week?"

"No! I never did!" yelled William. His mind buzzed with every kind of lie he could use to cover himself. "I was here all last week, reading and exploring the place and-"

Dad slammed his fist in the wall, cracking it. He growled at William, his fangs gritted in barely restrained anger.

"Ok, Yes! I did! I went outside without you! Please don't hurt me!" cried William. Dad roared in anger at his confession.

"Why'd you do it, boy!? What, when I was telling you how dangerous it is out there, you think I was spouting lies!?" Croc yelled.

William summoned what courage he had left in him. "I hate being here! You're always away, and I'm supposed to stay here all the time! What's so wrong with getting a little fresh air!?"

"Spoiled little brat!" snarled Dad. "And you think just 'cause you feeling a little bad, you can go against me and do whatever you want!? YOU NEARLY DIED TODAY BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T LISTEN!"

William shrank at that. His body trembled as he tried hard to not cry at Dad's severe words.

"And..." whatever Dad was going to say died in his throat when he saw William beginning to sob.

"Hey," said Dad, his voice softer than it was earlier. He pulled William into a hug, his anger seemingly gone now.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," William choked out, his crying making it difficult to talk.

"That's enough. You don't need to say anything else," said Dad. He stroked William's head, comforting him the best way he could. "I'm sorry, too."

William sniffed. "For what?"

"For hollering at you like that. I shouldn't done that to you." Croc said.

Dad broke the hug, letting William notice that Dad's face was etched with remorse.

"Why did you?" William asked.

"I guess I got scared, too," said Dad.

William looked surprised at that. For as long as he knew Dad, he was never afraid of anything.

"Really? But you took care of the bad men with no problem!" William said.

Dad shook his head. "Not them I'm scared of, boy. It's you. When I saw you captured by those fleshbags, his face soured at that memory, "I thought I was going to lose you. I don't want that to happen to you. That's why I want you to stay here."

"But I don't like staying here, Dad. I want to go outside and see what's there. I'm tired of being cooped up here while you get to go away." William said.

"But I don't like staying here, Dad. I want to go outside and see what's there. I'm tired of being cooped up here while you get to go away."

Dad sighed at that. "If you knew what I did about outside, you be more willing to stay here forever." He turned away in thought. "Maybe... maybe you can't stay here anymore." Croc said.

"Huh?" William was sure that he misheard him.

"What happened today, I can't hold it against you. Yer getting old, and with that, yer getting more restless. I wanted to keep you here 'cause I wanted you to be happy a little longer. But it looks like time is up." He looked regretful.

"You had me stay here, so I could be happy? I think I could be happier if I was out there!" said William.

Dad pinched his face in frustration. "We're not going to argue about that. We'll say more tomorrow, when I take you out."

"Really? You do that?" William said.

"After tomorrow, I'm going to be making plans for what yer do outside, so I'm going away for a bit." Croc said.

"Oh." William appeared crestfallen at that.

"For now, I got one business to take care of. I still need to clean up your mess. Get to bed."

William nodded at that. Dad turned to leave, only to stop at the entranceway.

"William." He glanced towards his father. "I
don't hate you. I only want what's best for you."

"I know, Dad," said William. After that, Dad left, leaving William all alone at last. He got in bed and began to fall asleep. Today was a disaster for him, but after what Dad said to him, maybe things were starting to look up for him. Soon, he wouldn't have to remain stuck in the sewers.

Croc tracked the rest of the scums to their base of
operation, thanks to the piece of shirt he tore off of his captive. With it, he tracked where the man used to frequent, back when he was alive. After all, once he had a scent, nothing could evade him.
The trail led him to an abandoned apartment complex, perfect for a gang that was trying hard to not draw attention to themselves. Too bad they were about to have an unpleasant surprise in the form of a beast, armed with sharp teeth and claws and a temper. It was too dangerous to let them live, not because they could launch another attack on him and William right when they have their guards down. He could handle them, and he
certainly wasn't intimidated by them. After all, why should he be afraid of a bunch of weaklings who snuck around them? No, the reason why they must be silenced was because they knew about William's existence. There was one funny thing about Gotham: information had quite a way spreading around. Like how Penguin use to have eyes and ears all over the city, poised to absorb any passing infos for later use. Or how the GCPD had their members do daily
patrol, allowing them to get the read on gang situations. And they, in turn, would pass the intel onto Batman and his Gargoyles.

He gave a growl at that name. Batman. There were also his Gargoyle pals. They fight alongside him against crime. Croc distrusted and despised everyone for labeling him a freak and making him into an outcast to society, to be exploited and thrown away with zero remorse. But that Caped Crusader and his Gargoyles managed to be even more despicable than all the flesh bags he met. Every time, without fail, Bat would capture him and haul him off to Arkham Asylum, all in the name of "justice." It was laughable, really. If there was any justice to be served, it was killing off all the pigs who thought it was fine to treat him as though he was an abomination. But of course, Bats thought just like the rest of them. Because Croc looked like a monster, only he was to blame for the crime, so it was off to Arkham he went, where he had a bunch of doctors poking into his painful past. It was all in the name of "rehabilitation," they said. Deep down, he was just as "normal" as anybody, they parroted. He didn't need a bunch of eggheads chaining him to the floor, so they can spend all day reopening old wounds. Surprisingly to him, after Batman stopped the Joker from hijacking that school bus with kids, he disappeared. Never to be seen again. His Gargoyles stayed behind though, no has seen them in action for while now.

He surprised and happy that he was gone. C.R.O.W.S. were nothing he could handle until Batwoman showed up. She began to finish what Batman started by taking care of the crooks here. Those Gargoyles came back to fight along side her.

Soon he heard that she and the Gargoyles joined the new Superhero team called the Justice League, lead by Star City's Green Arrow with Flash and Supergirl behind him.

A team of heroes from different cities besides Gotham. Just what he needed, more super good-doers out there. Then Batwoman passed the mantle to a new Batwoman. This one was just as tough as Batman and that other Batwoman. He encountered her and the red Gargoyle once and got his ass kicked by those two. He got locked up, but managed to escape. That was before William was born and his wife was alive.

He couldn't let the gang live a minute longer. Every second they spent alive is another chance for the information to fall into the wrong hand. Worst case scenario, Batwoman, the Gargoyles, or the Justice League would catch wind of who William was and throw him into Arkham along with Croc. He would not let that happen. He can't. He will not.

He sequestered himself away in a dark alley, figuring out how to best dispose of the gang. There was no harm in trying to play it safe; he could just stealth it, go into the apartment, take them out one by one, with them being none the wiser. But that option didn't feel so satisfying to do today. For what they did today, this was personal. It wasn't fitting for them to just suddenly die with no knowledge for why
they deserved it. It was only right that they knew what they just pissed off. Just one look at Croc charging at them, and it would be clear enough to them why they were all dying today. That way, Croc could take pleasure in watching their faces contort into horror at what they just brought upon
themselves.

Grinning at the upcoming fight, he moved to the
apartment's front door. He busted it down, then ducked under it. As soon as he entered, he began sniffing the air. The place reeked of dust and damp mildew, but he caught the scent he was looking for: humans. It was coming from the second floor. How many there were, he didn't know, but it had little bearing on whether he was going to come out
on top today. There could be a whole plantation full of them, and they still wouldn't be able to hurt him.
He ascended the stairwell. It creaked under his weight when he began to climb, but he didn't care if it would tip off his presence to the unsuspecting victims upstairs. He wanted them to know he was coming. The stench of cigar and alcohol struck him when he reached the top. The floor was noisy, the sound of talking, laughing, and yelling filling the air. It was a prime opportunity to crash their party and strike fear straight into their hearts. He walked down the hallway, picking the noisiest room.

"It's go time," thought Croc. He gave a short yell and charged through the door, knocking it down its hinges. The occupants looked up, dumbfounded. They were seated around a table, holding poker cards.

Croc ripped at one of the players' faces, gouging his eyes out. The rest opened fire at him, but it was no use. The bullets failed to pierce his hide. He grabbed a chair and threw it at them, knocking one of them unconscious. He seized his limp body and used it as a ragdoll against the rest, swinging with enough force to break their bones with a sickening crunch.
Something whacked him over the head. He turned to face another gang member, who was holding a bat. He swung it again, but Croc caught it midway. He ripped it out of his hands, then drove his claws into his guts, listening to the man's death gurgle. It wasn't over yet. Several more henchmen stormed in to investigate the commotion, but they found Killer Croc butchering their comrades. He gave a feral smile at seeing them rounded up in one place.

"Saves me the work in finding all of you." He rushed
at them.

He tore one in half, showering him in blood. They
all fought back, but their efforts were pointless. No matter how many times they shot at him, nothing seemed to hurt him. No matter how many times they beat him over with a sledgehammer or a crowbar, he shook it off like it was nothing. Croc, on the other hand, was having an easy time of it. He shredded through them as though they were made of paper, attacking them with a sort of savagery befitting a
wild animal. He ate their limbs, smashed their heads
against the wall, and mutilated their bodies bad enough to the point that they were beyond recognition.

Finally, he was down to one man. The little rat bastard was cowering on the floor, wishing that he could be anywhere but here, but no such luck. He gave a short yelp when Croc pinned him against the floor with his foot.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock, time to feed the Croc," he purred, delighting in how frightened the man looked. He tore into the man's organ, feasting him while he listened to his dying screams.