201-205

Chapter 201: Boss, You Really Have a Short Memory 

The dinner party finally reached its conclusion. The eighth course was dessert. 

"I'll be in touch with you both through Commissioner Gordon soon to discuss the financial arrangements. However, I can't make a final decision just yet," Wayne said. "I hope you understand – after all, I'm slightly concerned that the losing side might not accept defeat gracefully. It would be quite troublesome if things got messy here at the manor." 

"Ultimately, I understand you need to take down Batman, but I'd rather you not turn your guns on me." 

As Wayne saw the two groups out of the manor, he bid them farewell. "One last thing. To ensure your safety tonight, you both took a number of hostages. As you saw, the dinner wasn't interrupted by the GCPD or Batman. I trust you will release those hostages safely upon your return." 

The Riddler nodded in agreement. "Of course, Mr. Wayne. We are not animals – most of the time, anyway." 

"Sure." The Joker shrugged. "I think I killed all the hostages before I came. Maybe. Can't remember – I'll check when I get back." 

Bruce turned to the Joker, his brow furrowed. Even though he had experienced the Joker's madness and chaos firsthand, he still felt a deep surge of anger and disgust at that moment. 

The ninth course was coffee. 

"Thank you, Alfred. Thank you for everything tonight." 

A weary Bruce Wayne accepted the coffee the butler offered and took a sip. 

"Oh, it was nothing, really. Quite a... unique serving experience, actually." 

"Mother would be appalled – sending guests off right after dessert without offering sherry or coffee..." 

"Indeed, Master Bruce. Quite so." 

At that moment, a message suddenly appeared on Batman's computer. It was from Calendar Man. 

"Joker's hostages not dead, released them already – remember to pay Riddler so he can give us a raise." 

Bruce breathed a sigh of relief, then deleted the message. 

"Alfred," he said suddenly. "You know, I was actually starting to consider that talk show host's point of view." 

"Choosing a side? Master Bruce, I'm afraid that may not be a wise course of action." 

"But at the time, I felt like I was running out of options, Alfred..." 

Bruce took a deep breath. 

"If there really was no way to end this war, if I had to see more people die, if I didn't have Calendar Man's incredible ability, if I didn't have allies like Kite Man helping with rescues..." 

"If Mr. Calendar Man hadn't been able to rally enough allies, you were considering joining the Riddler?" 

"Yeah... As much as it would have hurt Chuck, I... I didn't see any other way." 

"In that case, I suppose I owe Mr. Calendar Man a personal thank you the next time we meet," Alfred said, letting out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "What are your plans now?" 

"Calendar Man's ability to turn people... it's quite strong. I've never met anyone who understands other super-villains like he does, and he can communicate with them calmly. I don't know if it's because of his... less defined criminal status... but he's really helped us bring in a whole bunch of allies." 

"Such as Mr. Floyd and Mr. Slade?" 

"Yeah... He actually asked Batman to go find me to talk to those two mercenaries. I'm starting to wonder if he knows about me." 

As he spoke, Bruce subconsciously focused, thinking back on the messages Calendar Man had sent him. 

"Batman, find a rich guy, a rich guy who doesn't want to see Gotham get trashed. Have him pay Deathstroke and Deadshot a pile of cash to work with you, to put on a show and let you 'catch' them – it's not betraying their bosses, just a failed mission. If the money's right, they'll agree." 

"Two guys from the Riddler's crew might also agree to my terms and ditch him. And on the Joker's side, I'm feeding him intel too, so I have a chance to flip his guys. One person has already accepted my price. Next, I'll talk to Penguin again – he's originally from the Falcone family, he's not going to willingly bow down to a lunatic. Honestly, if the Joker doesn't fall, Penguin will never move up. As long as he has an ounce of ambition, getting him to agree to an alliance with us is just a matter of time." 

"While I'm undercover, I'll go into their hideouts and buff those guys one by one. Don't worry, very few people will die from now on. With Kite Man and you helping, we can keep casualties to a minimum." 

Three messages, six super-villains, two superheroes, and if you count Crazy Quilt, that's a grand total of nine. This force was carved out of the direct confrontation between the Riddler and the Joker, a third faction strong enough to change the game. And according to Calendar Man, there was even a big lug who could be talked into leaving the Joker's side, but they hadn't done it yet, worried he might blow their cover. 

Even if they didn't switch sides, simply withdrawing from the conflict would weaken both sides enough for Batman to handle. 

"It's hard to imagine how he's managed it..." Bruce took another sip of coffee. "Getting along with those lunatics and flipping them – what kind of price could possibly be better than what the Riddler and the Joker are offering?" 

"Well, Master Bruce..." Alfred sighed. "The Riddler and the Joker are quite capable of manipulating people, but as we both know, the various super-villains have certain... obsessions, or perhaps you could even call them convictions." 

"Money and threats have significant power to sway, but in the face of conviction, such manipulations become rather insignificant." 

"You sound like you've had some experience with this... Wait a minute, which British university did you graduate from?" 

The Riddler didn't waste time. After reaching an agreement with Bruce, he released the hostages he had captured and the civilians he had forcibly enlisted as soldiers. And after Bruce transferred the money to him, the sounds of gun smoke and gunfire in the city indeed began to rapidly decrease. 

However, despite this, the Joker had no intention of giving up directly. He continued to command his super-villains and some key Falcone family members whose weaknesses he controlled, carrying on with this increasingly unbalanced battle. 

Consequently, the conflict shifted to a clash of high-level powers: super-villains versus super-villains, plus Batman. 

One day, the Riddler, his shoulder bandaged, called for Calendar Man and Scarecrow. 

"Crazy Quilt," he said. "Tonight, you and Scarecrow are going to scout out the Joker's territory. Your bike's mobility and your ability to survive are strong enough, perfect for taking Scarecrow along." 

Calendar Man looked at the Riddler and sighed slightly at his brilliant decision-making. 

Sigh. Boss, you really have a short memory. 

Chapter 202: The Eccentric Cyclist's Fourth Field Mission 

Night fell. Gotham City was unusually quiet this evening. 

Well, not entirely quiet, given that quite a few of the Riddler's soldiers were still roaming the streets. But compared to previous nights, when gunshots and explosions were common, and fires frequently lit up the sky, tonight felt remarkably peaceful. 

Cody rode his bicycle, swaying leisurely through the neon-lit streets. His black robe passed through the multi-colored lights and then plunged into the smoky evening wind blowing toward him. 

The air currents blowing past carried a hint of moisture, dispelling much of the summer heat. Even through the black robe, Cody could feel a bit of coolness. 

As the bicycle left the street, a shimmering river followed along the road, giving off moisture. The rising steam made Cody feel like he was at the seaside, so he unconsciously hummed a familiar tune. 

"Mountain flowers are blooming on the mountain, that's why I came up the mountain~" 

"Turns out you came up the mountain too, to see those mountain flowers bloom~" 

"I have no idea what you're singing." Scarecrow's voice came from behind him. "But do we have to ride your bike and just wobble along like this?" 

"Well, I could ride faster," Cody shrugged. "But it's been a long time since I've just casually cruised the streets like this, especially at night. It reminds me of home. Too bad Gotham doesn't have night markets. You'd never know the joy of going out late at night and eating your way down a whole street." 

"The Riddler sent us to scout Joker's territory, and right now I'm sitting on the back of your bicycle, inching along like a lunatic with you. It's been fifteen minutes, and we haven't even left the East End yet." Scarecrow wasn't interested in Cody night market stories. He even placed a sleeve on Mazhaodi's shoulder. "Now, you'd better get us into the West End within half an hour, or Nygma won't mind me going back alone to report." 

Cody twisted his head to look. A thin tube extended from Scarecrow's sleeve – one of his tools for releasing fear gas. 

"Alright, alright." 

No sooner had Cody spoken than the bicycle's speed abruptly increased. Scarecrow quickly pulled back the hand he'd extended and grabbed the back seat to avoid falling off. 

He didn't want any physical contact with Cody . This guy was too weird. Every mission he'd been on with him had resulted in an accident. The first time, a whole patrol squad and Kite Man disappeared. The second time, Deathstroke was gone. The third time, he went to dinner with the Riddler, and suddenly there was a knife in his shoulder. 

The Riddler had to force himself to eat dinner through the pain, pretending to be composed just to mock the Joker. In fact, after returning from dinner, the Riddler hadn't eaten any food requiring both a knife and fork for days, and he was still wearing a bandage this morning. 

It was clear he was probably in a lot of pain. 

Honestly, the other supervillains were mostly impressed by the Riddler's composure, noting that Cody hadn't been shot dead by him yet. Though, on the other hand, it was precisely because the Riddler showed this kind of rational attitude that he was able to recruit a significant number of supercriminals. 

Just as the bicycle was about to leave the East End's streets, Cody suddenly slowed down. He steered the bike and Scarecrow into a cluster of nearby buildings, disappearing from the road in seconds. 

"What are you—" 

"Jonathan, someone's coming." 

Cody words cut off Scarecrow's angry outburst. He looked down the street in surprise. Three figures, one thin and two fat, seemed to be vaguely appearing in the distance. 

"Can you recognize them?" Cody asked. "One is Cluemaster; his red uniform is easy to spot. But the other two..." 

Scarecrow looked at the three figures and suddenly let out a sinister laugh. 

"Heh heh, those are some of Joker's new guys. They're not famous and haven't done anything big, so of course you wouldn't know them. But either way, they're Joker's people." 

"You're having a lucky night," he said, a chilling grin revealing two rows of teeth on his burlap-sack-covered face. He patted Mazhaodi cheerfully. "I guess even unlucky people have their good days Cody ." 

"So you know who they are?" 

"The Tweedle Brothers," Scarecrow replied. "You have to use your brain to go up against those inhuman freaks. Of course, I know all about them. Though, those brothers are nothing but idiots who read too many fairy tales, just deluding themselves into thinking they can be villains." 

"Oh, Tweedledee and Tweedledum from Alice in Wonderland. They'd probably get along great with the Mad Hatter." 

At this point, the three figures on the street were gradually getting closer. 

"So which one of you is the older brother? Which one is the younger brother?" Cluemaster wore a yellow half-mask that completely covered the lower half of his face below his eyes, making his voice sound slightly muffled. 

"I'm the older-" The bald, fat guy bit into the sandwich in his hand. He wore a large white tank top, black striped pants, and red sneakers, looking slightly comical. 

"-brother." The fat guy wearing a hat casually took the sandwich from his brother. His build, appearance, and voice were identical to his brother's: the same bulging belly, the same rolls of fat all over, the same appearance suggesting a weight of well over four hundred pounds. 

The difference was his clothes: a short-sleeved white shirt, a green top hat, green suspender pants, and black leather shoes, which together made him look somewhat like a portly, comical character from a British comic strip. 

"Alright, alright," Cluemaster made an okay sign. "So, the older brother is Tweedle-older, and the younger brother is Tweedle-younger? I totally get it. Cough cough, don't mind me talking so much. This is my first time being sent by Joker to scout here in the East End, and you know, I'm a little nervous. So knowing you guys have done scouting here before, I'm pretty happy." 

At this point, the voices of Tweedle-older and Tweedle-younger took turns speaking. Their way of talking was bizarre; one person would say half a sentence, and the other would finish the second half. The two of them seemed to have a twin telepathy, able to read each other's thoughts. 

"Don't wor"-"ry, the scouting mission is pre"-"tty safe, and it's"-" not the worst." 

"The worst is running into Bat"-"man. We've"-" faced Bat"-"man before, he"-" punched me in the face. You know"-" how much that hurts?" 

"Even if every"-"thing goes wrong, who"-" among the Riddler's"-" men could hit"-" harder than Batman?" 

Hearing this, Cody felt a little guilty and tucked away the communicator inside his black robe. However, the call to Batman had already gone through. The deed was done. He hoped the Tweedle Brothers could keep their cool when they saw Batman again later. 

Chapter 203: Recon Mission Runs Into Scarecrow, Fear Gas Strong as a Monster, Can't Win Even Giving It Everything 

"I mean, sure, that's one way to look at it," Cluemaster said, spreading his hands while standing near the Ding Dang brothers. "But don't you guys think getting picked up by Batman would be way better?" 

"At least he won't kill us, and he'll stash us somewhere safe. If we don't wanna get sucked into this war, that's pretty much the only way out, right?" 

The Ding Dang brothers exchanged glances and scratched their heads together. 

"Bruce Wayne already handed that cash over to the Riddler. The Joker's on the ropes, things are getting worse by the day, and we're losing ground. Everyone's kinda freaking out." 

"But hey, I'm Cluemaster, I've figured this whole mess out. Think about it – if we'd said no to Joker back then, we'd be dead. But if we ditch him now and run to Riddler, Riddler'll just kill us too. Since we didn't jump on his bandwagon right away, it's probably too late now." 

Cluemaster asked, "Look, I'm Cluemaster, but honestly, I never really fit in with that bunch of nuts anyway. How about you guys? Don't you ever feel that way? You're big dudes, sure, but you're not exactly born killers or psychos." 

"You got a point, but..." "We're just out on patrol today." 

Hearing their response, Cluemaster couldn't help but sigh. 

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you. We just gotta do what Joker says and hope the supers over on Riddler's side don't straight-up kill us... What else can we even do?" 

"You could always fear." 

A hoarse, reedy voice rose with a thick green mist swirling up from the riverbank. Then, the Scarecrow, a monster with a sack over its head, stepped out of the fog. Its round, pupil-less eyes glowed with an eerie green light, and its gaping maw revealed dripping fangs. 

Of course, that's how Cluemaster saw him after inhaling the fear gas. In reality, Cody, watching from the sidelines, saw the guy's actual move – just tossing a green fear gas grenade and then, thanks to a special mask that filters out the gas completely, strolling right into the exploded mist like it was nothing. 

As Scarecrow walked further out, Cluemaster's gaze was fixed on him. In his eyes, the approaching scarecrow-monster grew bigger and more terrifying, eventually morphing into a blurry, formless black shadow that clenched him tightly in its grip. His body, his mind, even his ability to think, were crushed over and over, assimilated into that void. 

"Ah, ahhhhhh—!" 

He collapsed to the ground, curled up and hunched over, instinctively trying to protect himself in that pose. His eyes stared blankly ahead, pupils unfocused. His hair was covered in dust and dirt from the riverbank, only his mouth still instinctively letting out terrified screams. 

Scarecrow let out a chilling laugh. He took a deep breath of the thick fear saturating the air, listening intently to Cluemaster's agonizing wails. The feeling excited him, made him shiver, left him utterly satisfied. Jonathan Crane's obsession with fear practically surpassed anyone else's in the world, and the thrill he got from spreading it was almost better than anything else. 

He was pretty happy with his new gas. So, ignoring the helpless Cluemaster, he turned his attention to the Ding Dang brothers, who were taking off running in the distance. Gotta say, for big guys, they were surprisingly quick on their feet. 

"Run, my friends, run. Run into endless nightmares." 

As he said this, Scarecrow followed unhurriedly. Those two had been standing right next to Cluemaster just moments ago. Even if they ran fast, they definitely inhaled some of the fear gas. The more they moved, the faster their blood flowed, and the quicker the gas would take effect. They wouldn't make it more than a few dozen steps before starting to hallucinate, seeing and hearing things. 

"Ah, no, no!" "Stop! Don't come any closer!" 

Sure enough, after running a few more steps, the Ding Dang brothers started screaming and wailing, then turned around and ran back towards Scarecrow. After seeing the Scarecrow getting closer and closer, they both tumbled to the ground at the same time. 

"Now, gentlemen, it's your turn to experience the beauty of fear. Isn't it wonderful? Joker's soldiers?" 

"Isn't it a fantastic thing to wake up from the nightmare of your own life?" 

"No, don't!" "No, don't!" 

Scarecrow didn't care about the wailing Ding Dang brothers on the ground. He extended his sleeves, aiming the ends towards their faces. 

"Uh, no, that's not wonderful at all, Jonathan. I know you're having a blast, but my mask isn't a gas mask, it won't filter out your fear gas. Could you maybe toss me an antidote or something first?" 

Jonathan glanced back at Cody, who was hanging back in the distance, and scoffed with a smile. "Why bother? You're useless anyway. I can handle these three opponents by myself, I don't need your help. Or rather, I'd love to see you collapse in fear. How about you give the fear gas a shot too, huh?" 

"You won't even spare your own teammate, huh? Figures." Cody shrugged. "Alright, well, I gave it a shot anyway. Since you're not letting me join the fight, I guess I'll just watch from over here." 

"It's already over, there's no fight—" 

WHAM! 

The moment Scarecrow finished speaking, a heavy kick came down from above, sending him flying. 

"Whoa—Batman? Cough, cough, cough!" 

Scarecrow clutched his chest, catching his breath after being kicked, totally unable to stand up for a long time. Cody couldn't tell if Batman had held back at all, or if that was just Batman's standard move. 

"Jonathan, your tour of fear ends here. You're coming back to the GCPD with me." 

Batman, dropping in from above, unilaterally declared Scarecrow's fate in a cold tone, still wearing a respirator. His massive, nearly two-meter tall body blocked the moonlight, casting a huge shadow that enveloped Scarecrow. 

Looking at the dark silhouette of Bat and hearing the opponent's oppressive voice, Scarecrow started trembling all over. Without a doubt, Batman fit every one of his beautiful ideas about fear. 

Trembling, he watched the figure approach, then jumped up and threw a punch at Batman. 

CRUNCH! 

"Agh—!" 

The familiar sound of breaking bone, the familiar rhythm. Not surprising at all. 

Right then, though, a puff of smoke burst from the cuff of Scarecrow's broken arm. This smoke was a vivid green, totally different from before. 

Cody, watching from the side, shook his head inwardly. 

"Enhanced fear gas? Probably won't do squat." 

The very next second, though, he suddenly realized the problem. 

"Holy heck! The Ding Dang brothers are still in the gas!" 

Chapter 204: Boss, Jonathan and Three Other Supervillains Got Nabbed by Batman! 

Batman reacted even faster than Cody. 

The first thing he did was whip his head around to check on the Ding-Dong Brothers on the ground. Then he immediately grabbed Scarecrow and hightailed it away, trying to get the source of the poison gas outta there. 

But in the end, he just wasn't quick enough. Or maybe it was that Scarecrow's self-detonation was just way too sudden, totally outta left field. 

The vibrant emerald green smoke was thick, almost like it was solid. After blowing up from Scarecrow, it quickly spread out across the ground, 

blanketing everything, then rising up and getting sucked into the Ding-Dong Brothers' noses and mouths with the air. 

Crack 

"Ah!" 

"The antidote." 

Batman's voice was hoarse and low, loaded with a suppressed rage. 

"You want the antidote, Batman? You wanna save those two?" 

Scarecrow lay on the ground, gritting his teeth through the intense pain in his arms, and said to Batman, "It's simple. You let me go, 

and then I'll tell you where the antidote is. Don't even think about other options, I didn't bring the antidote with me. So the situation's pretty straightforward right now." 

"Batman, you and me, we make a deal. You let me walk, you get the antidote, the Ding-Dong Brothers live." 

"Or you haul me back to the cops. Scarecrow gets beaten by Batman again, but the Ding-Dong Brothers die. And it'll be 'cause of your choice, which means you basically killed 'em yourself." 

"Pick, Batman, pick," the burlap-masked villain said, looking at the expressionless Batman with a chilling laugh. "Either let me go, or personally kill two guys? Or hey, maybe the lives of criminals just don't mean squat to you?" 

While they were talking, he subtly and quickly glanced several times into the alley where Cody was hiding. It was obvious he hoped his teammate, the one he was just annoyed with a minute ago, would step up and create some kind of distraction for him, an opening to escape. Or, y'know, he didn't even need to actively do anything; as long as Batman noticed the weird bike guy still lurking there, his attention would naturally split. 

This time, though, he was outta luck. 

The alley was pitch black, not a sound came from it, and Batman didn't even bother to look back. He just unceremoniously tossed Scarecrow onto the ground, grabbed his legs, and threw two punches. 

Crack went two sounds, and Scarecrow's legs snapped clean. The intense pain shot straight from his legs to his brain, making him roll his eyes and pass out. 

After Scarecrow was out cold, Batman pulled two small candies from his utility belt, one red and one white. 

"Only the milk candies are the antidote, right?" 

From the alley, the figure in the black robe holding a signal jammer walked out. 

"Yep. The fruit candies are just for healing." 

"You got any more milk candies?" 

Cody casually tossed three white candies over. "Don't waste 'em. If the poison ain't gonna kill 'em, don't use the candy. It ain't cheap." 

As Batman caught the candies, his mind raced. Not cheap? Did he buy these? Or were the ingredients expensive? Could they be mass-produced? Did Cody have the formula? 

He didn't ask directly. Instead, he went to the Ding-Dong Brothers first and gave them the milk candies. Cluemaster didn't get the same treatment; the gas he inhaled wasn't lethal. 

Meanwhile, Cody, chewing on a milk candy, walked over to Scarecrow, who was still emitting green smoke, and looked at his injuries with amazement. 

"Look at that kick! Who knows how many bones are broken in his chest. You totally looked like you were trying to kill Jonathan..." 

"No. I just put my two hundred and ten pounds onto him." 

It was now early the next morning. 

"Boss, the weird bike guy is back." 

Hearing that familiar report, Riddler, with his one good hand, pulled out his gun and stormed towards the main hall. 

Two minutes later. 

Riddler looked at Cody standing in the center of the hall. He still seemed unharmed. This time, his black robe didn't even have any dust on it, let alone blood or bullet holes. 

Even more composed than last time, somehow. 

Riddler's face was grim as he raised his gun at Cody in the black robe. 

"Weird bike guy, where's Jonathan? The one you were with?" 

"Batman got him." 

The remaining supervillains in the room exchanged knowing glances. They were starting to get used to Cody's style. 

Riddler's face darkened further. He spoke, "Saul." 

"Here." 

"I'm starting to lose my patience here," he said. "You're telling me Batman beat Jonathan—but I assigned you guys a reconnaissance mission, right?" 

"Oh, yeah, that's true." 

"Why'd you decide to fight Batman during a recon mission? Why didn't you just split?" 

"We ran into Cluemaster and the Ding-Dong Brothers from Joker's crew in the East End." 

"And you guys fought?" 

"They were on a recon mission too. We couldn't just ignore 'em." 

"And then Batman just swooped in and cleaned up?" 

"You could say that." 

"Did it ever occur to you that tonight, including you, it was five people against one Batman?" 

"Boss, you know how Scarecrow is when he fights. It's just chaos everywhere, treats teammates and enemies the same. I couldn't help at all. Plus, I even asked him, but he insisted on going solo. I totally couldn't talk him out of it." 

"Besides, we still had to do the recon, right? While Batman was taking them away, I could just zip over to the Upper West Side to do the scouting. 

It was super safe then." 

Riddler felt a dizzying sense of déjà vu. This conversation felt so familiar, not the content, but the feeling of it. 

That natural, practiced, shameless way of selling out your teammates with legitimate-sounding excuses, totally deflecting blame – and the worst part was, these were his subordinates, his power base and crew. 

"Those were your teammates!" 

"Boss, we're supervillains, gotta be a little cold-hearted," Cody advised earnestly. "Think about it, if I didn't ditch my teammates, I would've been nabbed by Batman way back when you recruited Kite Man. Then I wouldn't have been able to go on that mission with Deathstroke, or accompany you to the banquet, or finish the recon mission tonight." 

"They were gonna get taken down anyway without me. But with me around, at least one of the guys in the group makes it back every time. That's a good thing, right?" 

That's literally no different! 

Riddler buried his face in his single hand in agony. Everyone could see that with every word Cody spoke, Riddler regretted his decision a little more. Seriously, maybe it would've been better if he had just been caught by Batman instead. 

At least then he wouldn't be suffering both physical and mental torture. 

"You... finish reporting on tonight's recon, then get lost," he said. "I'm never counting on you, you waste of space, to complete a mission again. From now on, you just follow behind the team and handle intel delivery." 

Cody shrugged. "Sounds good to me." 

"So what did you scout out tonight?" 

"Not much going on at Joker's camp, just regular guards and patrols. But they're down three supervillains – Cluemaster and the Ding-Dong Brothers. I heard they actually were supposed to be doing recon here in the East End tonight..." 

"GET OUT!" 

Chapter 205: Mainly Just Wanted to Win 

The only lesson humanity ever learned from history is that humanity never learns any lessons. 

Three times, huh, three times. 

By the time Cody completed the mission for the third time by basically sacrificing his teammate, Riddler finally got it: this guy was not cut out to be a combat operative on the front lines. 

At least not on a battlefield where Batman was likely to show up. 

All those times he tried before, putting the 'Perverted Cyclist' guy out in the field over and over, it wasn't to prove the guy wasn't a screw-up. Honestly, after the first time, he already knew the guy was gonna book it at the first sign of trouble. But from the second time he used the 'Perverted Cyclist' and lost Slade, well, things changed. 

It didn't matter anymore if this guy was useful or not. What mattered was, Riddler's competitive streak kicked in. 

No way, he thought. I just hired a loser, right? It's not like I accidentally hired a jinx or something, is it? 

At worst, he's useless. He can't possibly screw me over, right? Like, seriously? Me, the Riddler, with my legendary reputation, getting taken down by some idiot? 

So, Riddler sent him out a third time. And that third time? Scarecrow was toast. 

After three tries, Riddler finally realized that while he was managing to turn losing situations into winning ones despite having the 'Perverted Cyclist' as a handicap, if he actually tried to deploy the guy as if he were a real fighter, those winning situations would just turn back into fifty-fifty chances pretty quick. 

Good thing Batman's game plan so far had been pretty fair – basically hitting both sides equally. Riddler and Joker's supervillains were mostly getting scooped up in one go. Except for the lightning-fast Cody, any supervillain either side sent out was getting cleaned out by Batman. 

In the study, Nygma was giving Two-Face, Harvey Dent, and Killer Croc, Waylon Jones, some private instructions. 

"I'm totally giving up on that 'Perverted Cyclist' loser actually fighting," Riddler said bluntly. "Harvey, Waylon, I'm counting on you two. Joker's running out of players. Word is, Ventriloquist is controlling three blocks in the Upper West Side on his own. His combat skills aren't exactly top-notch, so you two taking him on shouldn't be a problem. Even if Batman shows up, you can bail. The 'Perverted Cyclist' will be tagging along, but he's strictly communications." 

"Remember, the minute the 'Perverted Cyclist' starts running, don't stick around. If you have to, it's fine to use him as a meat shield. He's not doing squat for the team otherwise." 

"Then why are you still insisting on sending him out?" 

Riddler scoffed, "This isn't about good judgment anymore. This is about my pride." 

In other words, he mainly just wanted to win. 

And so, Two-Face and Killer Croc took their orders and left. 

"So, Waylon, how'd you end up like this?" 

"None of your business." 

Out on the streets of Gotham City, Killer Croc, Two-Face, and Cody were heading towards the Upper West Side. The way Cody saw him, Croc was like a giant, evolved lizard – big, green, covered in green scales, with beastly vertical pupils and fangs on his face. 

At nearly 2.3 meters tall and weighing 300 kilograms, his sheer size alone was bigger than the other two guys put together. 

"Whoa, don't be so cold," Cody said, offering him the extra-large roasted lamb leg in his hand. "I've been the one cooking these past few days, haven't I? You ever met a better chef than me?" 

Killer Croc rolled his eyes, his beastly pupils flicking upwards. He looked a little fierce, but also kinda funny. 

"I can eat anything. Whether you're a good cook or not doesn't really matter." 

"Waylon, you just look like a croc, you're not an actual croc. Real crocodiles eat raw meat and blood. People can definitely tell the difference." 

Hearing Cody's answer, Waylon turned his eyes towards him, his vertical pupils staring deeply at the black robe. 

"What if I told you I've eaten people?" 

"Seriously? I don't buy it." 

"You should." 

As they talked, a huge claw landed on Cody's shoulder. "Feel that, kid? This isn't human skin, it's croc hide. This isn't human strength, it's the brute force of a beast." 

"Ow, dang it! Ow, ow, ow!" 

As Cody yelped, Killer Croc pulled his hand back and went back to gnawing on the lamb leg. His two rows of stark white teeth were like a meat grinder, crunching and chewing the fragrant roasted lamb leg, bones and all, swallowing it down. "You see how I'm eating right now? You should know, there's not much difference between a lamb leg and a human hand to me." 

"Yeah, but you're still warm-blooded. You've got a human body temperature." Cody rubbed his shoulder, then slipped a disposable glove onto his left hand and pulled a steak and a bottle of red wine from a paper bag. No fancy silver fork or wine glass, but hey, he wasn't some high-society big shot anyway. He only bothered with manners when visiting someone else; otherwise, he just did whatever felt comfortable. 

"Having beastly abilities and having a beastly mindset are two different things. At least in the last two weeks, I haven't seen you eat anyone. What I have seen is you reading." 

Two-Face, flipping his coin, suddenly chimed in, "I seriously doubt he can understand it. A former wrestler and mob boss with a crocodile tail reading philosophy books... The sheer absurdity of it made me wonder for a moment if I was losing my mind." 

"No need to wonder," Killer Croc scoffed. "You are crazy. Right now, Harvey Dent's talking to me, but the next second it could flip to Two-Face. I'm a beast, and you're a lunatic." 

Cody looked at Killer Croc curiously. "You were a wrestler? Like, underground fighting? And hey, what am I?" 

"You're a scaredy-cat idiot," Two-Face said, his eye on the scarred side of his face rolling towards Cody, looking pretty creepy. "If Harvey wasn't holding me back, I'd honestly just kill you right now. You're an embarrassment to all supervillains. You've got less guts than Kite-Man, for crying out loud." 

"Hey! I went up against Deadshot with Slade, okay?!" 

As Killer Croc listened to Cody's question, he instinctively thought back to his days in the ring. 

"That was my first legal job, and my only one. At a circus called Haley's." 

"A circus?" 

"What, you think a freak who looks like a crocodile could get a job anywhere else?" 

"What about your family?" 

"I don't have any family." 

He did have family, of course. 

His mother died during childbirth, and his father hated the baby that looked like a monster. He wished he'd never had such a child. 

And by now, Waylon Jones couldn't really remember his mother's or father's faces anymore.