## Chapter 22: The Monster in the Sewers
Drip, drip.
The sewers of Gotham City, dark and eerie, were a breeding ground for all sorts of unknown creatures.
Killer Croc was once one of them.
But he wasn’t anymore. Now he was a man with two hundred million, though it was all dirty money, untaxed and illegitimate, making it impossible to spend openly.
But he had money, and money… brought hope.
Killer Croc opened his eyes.
His nictitating membranes flickered, causing ripples on the surface of the water under the dim glow of his flashlight.
“That big guy is coming again,” he said to his ventriloquist doll. “I mean, **BIG** guy. I never thought I’d be calling someone that. I thought I was Gotham’s most famous big guy.”
He said that, but in reality, Waylon felt much smarter now.
He had accepted that he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but that wasn’t always the case.
During his youth, his intelligence was normal.
But after he reached adulthood and became a full-fledged reptile, he found that the more he distanced himself from people, the more his animalistic instincts grew, and the more his appearance transformed.
These past few days, he had been staying with other humans, and his animalistic side had subsided considerably, making his mind much clearer.
“Focus on the job, Waylon,” the ventriloquist doll said, sitting on the corridor beside the sewer. Gotham’s old underground drainage system always had corridors for workers.
The Batman doll in his hand replied, “Don’t worry. You might not be the most famous big guy, but you’re definitely the richest one now.”
He continued, “You’ve seen those two van-loads of cash in the Swiss bank vault, right? If you want the employer to launder all your money so you can spend it, you better hurry. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this, after all.”
“I know, I know.”
The humanoid crocodile wagged his tail, rising from the underground river and lifting a small cart from beside the ventriloquist.
A roasted golden-brown whole ox was placed inside. It should have been in Gotham’s top seven-star restaurant, being ruined by a bunch of outwardly suave but inwardly fat-brained fools, not in this dirty place.
Killer Croc sighed.
Roasted pork, roasted ox, the delicious scent in the sewers, it was all so familiar, it was all a repeat performance, but he was the executor this time, which felt strangely ironic.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Roar – Woo –
Like the sound of extremely heavy iron balls hitting the ground, the sound echoed throughout the empty underground water pipe, accompanied by that hoarse and gloomy voice, composing a bizarre duet.
Listen closely – the sound was saying:
“Solomon Grundy – born on Monday!”
…
…
…
Tim Drake, the third Robin, was sitting at the edge of the building, using binoculars to observe the apartment building in the distance.
Batman and Harley Quinn were inside.
If it was the old Batman, Tim wouldn’t have been worried at all, because he knew how strong Batman was – but now it was different.
Could Bruce Wayne really handle a dangerous criminal like Harley Quinn?
Tim carefully swung across the entire street using a grappling hook, landing silently on the roof, then flipped through the window of the corridor.
As twilight descended, the sound-activated hallway was pitch black.
A slightly ajar door cast a sliver of light, like the open maw of a giant beast.
Tim silently hid in the shadows behind the door, then heard Harley Quinn say:
“Fuck, Bats, you *******.”
“******!”
!!!
With a bang, Tim kicked the door open!
“Batman, what are you doing—”
Then he saw Batman holding a skeleton in one hand, playing with a skull in the other, seemingly trying to stuff the scattered skeletal parts back into the mouth of a huge Venus flytrap.
“Woooowooowooee! You want me to eat my vomit back up???”
Frank the Venus flytrap struggled fiercely but couldn’t resist Batman. Chen Tao pulled out a lighter and showed it to him, and he immediately calmed down.
“Aha!”
Seeing Robin enter, Harley immediately jumped off the edge of the windowsill, assuming the pose of a haughty inspection officer: “Private Robin, attention!”
Tim turned to Batman, giving him a “What the hell is this?” expression.
Chen Tao explained, “These people weren’t killed by Harley.”
Harley cooperated by going crazy alongside him.
“Woohoohoo, Mr. Skeleton, woohoohoo, Mr. Skeleton! You died so tragically!”
“You went from a living person to a corpse, it’s not your fault, rest in peace, rest in—”
“Uh… this is just Harley’s version of a dirge or a requiem.” Chen Tao added.
“Humhumhumhum~”
A few minutes later, Harley Quinn stood in front of the Batmobile parked in the alleyway.
She leaned her butt against the hood of the car, then slid into the passenger seat like she had no bones.
“So, what’s the plan, Dynamic Duo?”
The third Robin stood beside them, grumbling. The passenger seat in the Batmobile was supposed to be his!
“Nobody knows Poison Ivy like I do. Now, I’ll help you find her, but you have to let me reason with her before you barge in.”
“Then, after this is over, you have to put in a good word for me with those guys on the parole board, tell them what a righteous and kind citizen I am, yada yada yada.”
It seemed like a reasonable request, a piece of cake for Batman.
If they agreed to Harley Quinn’s terms, they could get her help right away, find Poison Ivy, break through Plant Master, and solve all the problems.
But Batman wouldn’t do that.
This was Harley’s test, testing whether he was truly Batman.
Once Chen Tao agreed, it would become him, Batman, begging Harley for help, and the initiative would immediately fall into Harley’s hands. Even though she hadn’t been a psychologist for many years, Harley Quinn was still almost instinctively using some techniques to influence the power dynamics between them through language.
So Chen Tao said, “No.”
“What? I mean… You don’t want to…? You don’t need to…”
Harley Quinn was still making an effort, and Chen Tao just quietly watched her pretend to be surprised.
Those conditions didn’t matter. What mattered was Ivy.
Chen Tao was always good at getting to the point. Now, he needed to suppress Harley Quinn’s delusion of taking the initiative.
“I don’t make deals with psychotics.”
“Ah-ah-ah it’s sociopath!” Harley scratched her head frantically.
“So-ci-o-path!”
“Gosh, why does everyone get my identity wrong?!?!”
She crossed her arms and jumped off the Batmobile.
“If you don’t agree to my terms, why should I help you?”
(End of Chapter)
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