Author's note:

My second fanfiction, it takes place in Arkhamverse before ''Batman: Arkham Asylum'' incident. English is not my first language, so please, tell me about all mistakes I have made. I hope you'll like it.

Also, don't worry, next chapters will be longer :)

It was late evening and every inmate in Arkham was back in his cell, awaiting for turning off the lights. Every, but one. One of them didn't live in a cell. He was too dangerous for this. Sewers were his home and his name was well known in the Asylum: Waylon Jones. But everybody called him Killer Croc.

Tonight, he was going to be my patient.

"Are you sure you want to do this ?", Doctor Murphy asked.

"Of course. If I managed to cure the Scarecrow, I'll handle Mr. Jones.", I said calmly. Doctor Murphy just laughed.

"Every doctor says that they can handle him. After three weeks, most of them are gone.", he said. I looked at him with fear in my eyes.

"Sorry, that's... not what I meant. I'm just trying to say that he's not the easiest person to deal with. Most people just chose to take some other patient or leave Arkham altogether.

"Is he that bad ? I mean, how complex can he be ? He's the type of brute, isn't he ?"

"Well, he is. But not the complexity of his mind is the problem. He doesn't want to be cured."

I looked at him with surprise.

"He's been there for three years and he didn't want to talk to any of the doctors ? How is that possible ?"

"He just considers all of us... well, you should go now.", Murphy stopped with stress in his eyes.

"He considers us what ?"

"... food."

Well... I did not expect this.

"So the rumors...", I said with disbelief.

"Yes. He's a cannibal. But you don't need to worry. He's wearing the electric collar that prevents him from hurting anyone."

"The collar ? That's not a popular method of 'dealing with' patients", I thought.

"I... I think I should go. G-goodbye.", I said, not as calmly as I wished.

I went straight to my office where the session was about to begin.

Suddenly, the door was open. Four guards entered the room and started to aim their guns at my head. They caught me in the middle of the meal, and I don't like when somebody interrupts my dinner.

"On the ground, Croc. Now !", one of those pricks yelled.

I did what he said and they handcuffed me. The handcuffs weren't any trouble for me, they were mostly for principles. I didn't want to escape, not yet. For now, I'll be just sitting and listening to those maggots, who just can't shut the fuck up. They escorted me to the office of some new doctor I didn't know. "Alice Walker", the doorplate said. Huh. Some new bitch. I entered the office and the first thing I saw was a young, scared doctor, whose face was more than enough to make me angry.

Waylon Jones entered my office. He needed to crouch in order to pass the door. I looked at him with terror. He was three meters tall and had the most impressive set of muscles I have ever seen. But that wasn't terrifying. His skin was green and scale-like and his mouth was full of razor-sharp teeth. I was told about his skin issue but nothing could prepare me for this.

"Shoot a fucking picture. I know, big-fucking-crocodile-freak. Nice to meet ya." he said with sarcasm and anger. Even his voice made me tremble. The sound of it was almost inhuman.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Jones. I didn't mean to stare.", I said with uneasiness.

I turned on the recorder and said "This is my first session with patient Waylon Jones, also known as Killer Croc."

The guards who escorted him forced him to sit in a giant, metal chair in front of my desk. When he already sat, they immobilized his arms and legs with cuffs attached to the chair.

"I'm sorry for this, Mr. Jones, but you gave us no choice after attacking Doctor Simmons.", I said in apologetic manner.

"You've seen my files ?", he said with something resembling a grin.

"Yes, I've seen it all, Waylon. And it says that over fifty doctors tried to cure you, yet everyone of them failed. May I know why ?"

"None of them could cure me.", he said with anger.

"What makes you say that ?"

"None of them could make me... normal".

"You are normal, Waylon, you just..."

"Try to say that from my own, fucking perspective !", he shouted and tried to break the metal cuffs that immobilized him. Guard behind the doors pushed the trigger of the collar which made Waylon shout in agony.

"Stop it !", I shouted. He didn't react. "That's enough !"

"It's necessary !", he shouted.

"Electrocuting him is necessary ?!", I responded with disbelief.

The guard finally released the button and Waylon lost his consciousness. I turned off the recorder and ordered guards to take Waylon back to the sewers. The chair had wheels which allowed them to move him with relative ease.

After a while, Doctor Murphy came to my office.

"Well..." he said. "It went pretty good, right ?"