Another day, another...aww, t'hell wi'dit.

[jla-villains.livejournal.com]

Large, green, scaly, scowling, that's the distinct and typical manner of Waylon Jones, known better to Gotham as Killer Croc. His attitude is rarely sunny, and this evening his temper is burying the needle, past murderous rage.

He just feels the need for mayhem.

Quitting the sewers via a manhole near Fittany's Jewelers, he cracks his knuckles and ponders the best way into the bank, beyond the usual M.O. of busting in the window, yanking out some iron bars, and hoping that the schmuck security guard wants to come out and play.

There's gotta be a better way for a guy to make money and get his homicidal freak on in this lousy town.

Comments

[jla-villains.livejournal.com]

What to throw, what to throw...

Croc eyes a VW Beetle, a trash can, a mail box (nah, dat's a federal offense) and then a lamp post, deciding to uproot the last in that list. Nice big steel weapon, good for shattering glass, beating in iron bars, pulverizing skulls.

[jla-randoms.livejournal.com]

There's a thin whistle in the air as three R-shaped shuriken spin to their target - Croc's arm. Tim, bo staff in hand, has arrived at street level without otherwise making a sound - standing a distance from Croc equal to about twice the length of that lamp post.

"What's the deal, Croc? Do you think you'd look smarter if you carried a lightbulb around over your head?"

[jla-villains.livejournal.com]

Whirling around, Croc regards the things stuck in his arm and then looks at Robin. "You gotta wear clothes with your initials on 'em and you call me dumb?"

He puts down the lamppost (on top of the mailbox, whoops) to pluck the sharp things out of his scales. "Dat almost hurt."

[jla-randoms.livejournal.com]

The shuriken erupt into small clouds of pale yellow gas as Croc begins to pull them out - the acrid smoke probably won't be enough to knock him out, but it should make the fight a little slower.

"The next part is where it's supposed to hurt. Batman sends his regards."

Robin brandishes the bo staff, adopting a defensive stance.

[jla-villains.livejournal.com]

Coff, coff, coff. Croc waves a hand in from of his face, backing away from the little puffs of gas. "What's wrong wi' you, Boy Wonder? You tryin' to give me da sniffles?"

He picks up the lamppost and faces Robin, adding, "How come he's sending Junior to do his work now?"

[jla-randoms.livejournal.com]

Robin manages a little smile.

"Batman's tending to the important stuff. After the last time he fought you, he figured you didn't rate his full attention."

He inches a little closer, preparing to make his move.

[jla-villains.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, I gotcha. Insult da big green guy. Funny, kid." Croc swings the lamppost at Robin. Strong is Croc, but that is not the fastest weapon.

[jla-randoms.livejournal.com]

Robin leaps aside, clearing the impact zone of the lam post by several feet. He redirects his momentum, rolling in towards Croc - jamming the reinforced bo staff between Croc's feet, and then violently jerking it to one side.

[jla-villains.livejournal.com]

Croc goes one way, the post goes another, and both make heavy sounds as they land on the pavement. "Mudder of...come here, ya pipsqueak."

He picks up the manhole cover still sitting askew from his entry into Gotham proper (as it were) and flings it like a Frisbee at the Boy Wonder.

[jla-randoms.livejournal.com]

The worst things about fighting a brick were the improvised missile weapons. He bends backwards, nearly flattening himself to the ground as the potentially-decapitating iron missile streaks overhead, narrowly missing his skull.

Robin's hand slides to his utility belt to recover the tool he'll need for the next phase of the assault, as he leaps back onto his feet.

[jla-villains.livejournal.com]

He leaps to his feet as Croc is throwing himself, like a big scaly green linebacker, at Robin's midsection.

[jla-randoms.livejournal.com]

There was a certain amount of predictability to fighting Croc, and the expression on Tim's face as he sees the green behemoth barreling at him is one of exasperation, not fear or surprise.

He can't avoid the tackle, but he shifts so as to better roll with the impact - and slaps Croc's back with the newly-produced taser he just pulled from his utility belt.

[jla-villains.livejournal.com]

Croc lets go a bellow of pain and anger as the taser does its job - one imagines the Bat brigade is not equipped with the standard-level tasers but rather something meant for big boys like Clayface and him - and as he rolls onto his back again, he grunts. This isn't exactly new territory for him, either. "Look, I ain't done nothin' wrong, Robin. How come you're messin' with me?"

[jla-randoms.livejournal.com]

Robin rolls free, shaking his head.

"I just saw you tear a lamp post out of the ground and prepare to swing it at the bank. I am a witness to your crime of destruction of city property. And you've got an outstanding warrant for escaping from Blackgate. Just come along quietly and we can skip the usual stuff."

[jla-villains.livejournal.com]

"Destruction of public property? You seen what you and da Bat can do with some o' yer toys?" Croc hauls himself to his feet again and dusts himself off. "Now what kinda moron thinks I'm gonna come quiet?"

Croc tears a door off the Beetle - looks like a '65 - and throws it at Robin before adding, "I'm just protectin' myself as a private citizen of Gotham."

[jla-randoms.livejournal.com]

Robin ducks under the door, hurling a spider-silk strand bola at Croc's legs.

"What part of 'outstanding warrant' didn't make it through?"

[jla-villains.livejournal.com]

"Ain't going back there, kid," replies Croc as he lunges for Robin. The bola winds itself around his knees obediently. "Aww, hell. Why you gotta do that?"

[jla-randoms.livejournal.com]

"Because it makes this next part easier."

Croc's advance is met by Robin's own - running forward to deliver a powerful pressure-point blow near Croc's solar plexus.

[jla-villains.livejournal.com]

WHUMP. The air in Croc's lungs rockets out with a gasp, and he bows forward, clutching his midsection in pain. For a moment, he simply cannot breathe. Blindly he reaches for Robin to, well, break him in half.

[jla-randoms.livejournal.com]

Of course, Robin has a vested interest in staying in one piece - he jumps back a short distance out of Croc's reach and drops a knockout gas pellet on the ground in front of him - ready to fill Croc's eagerly refilling lungs.

"Breathe deep, Croc."

[jla-villains.livejournal.com]

Like the big man has a choice. Soon as his muscles work again, he draws in a gulp of air...and a lungful of knockout gas.

"Whudda cheap tr--"

Timber.

[jla-randoms.livejournal.com]

He moves quickly to secure Croc with more spider-silk cable, grabbing the tracer that lead him to the criminal and pulling out his communicator.

"Recovered tracer planted by Batman the other night, from Killer Croc. I don't believe he was the original recipient. Croc is secure, and I'm calling GCPD for pickup."

[http://users.livejournal.com/_darkknight_/]

"Croc?" comes the Batman's answer. Yes, he's still working. Does that surprise you? "Good work."

[jla-randoms.livejournal.com]

"Thanks. I'll get a few forensics samples from his nails so we can definitively rule him out as the assailant. Over and out."

[http://users.livejournal.com/_darkknight_/]

In the Cave, Bruce sits back, coughing into a handkerchief. Wasn't Croc. One Gotham strongarm down, about another eight hundred to go.