At the Gator's 4 (Patreon)

At the Gator’s 4 - or ‘I am Croc or Waylon, but no Killer’ (DC Comics/DCAU, Killer Croc!SI)

It was Sunday, and Louise was not having that much fun from the loud huff ripping through her lips at the umpteenth failure.

To be fair, I was slowly getting frustrated with myself as I wanted to help her more than I was, but I was unprepared for the particular ‘twitches and feelings’ of cryokinesis. What I knew was that she produced Ice on command but lacked the ‘how much’ button to regulate what she was able to create.

She was also impatient, which made for a terrible emotional cocktail to get something done smoothly. So, I had to sit her down for a moment to talk. She was angry because she wanted progress, but couldn’t put effort right where it was due. After a while of letting her do her thing, I just gave her a task.

“I want you to create ten spheres of pure ice. They have to be perfectly shaped.”

“But-”

I held a hand up, stopping her protest and I could tell she was still annoyed but listening.

“This is not school homework. I don’t want you to think that I want you to learn this to favor me, or for me to grade or judge you. I want you to learn this for yourself,” I explained to her in a most understanding voice as I had been there while mastering the ‘Croc’. “You don’t… get documentation at the end of this. You don’t get something to put on your curriculum as a reference. You don’t get a job from this alone… you survive. The moment trouble comes here in Gotham, the moment you need to either help yourself or others, depending on how you feel about it, you need to be ready to fight- not to win, not to kill, but to survive and be that kind of winner.”

“...But isn’t it… so little?”

I patted her shoulders and I saw her tense up at the sudden touch. I still smiled at her despite the unease flashing through her icy eyes.

“This is square one of learning how to fully control your powers. You can’t expect to be perfect at something if you don’t start from the bottom. It’s like with bartending: before you start with the drinks-”

“You need to know how to move around the glasses and bottles. To get a… feeling of them,” Louise finished for me, then offered a look that promised an effort. “I can try.”

“Try to win, not to lose. You are definitely not a quitter, Louise.”

Hours went by just like that. It was a free day and Pam wanted to do a ‘full cleanup’ of the pub as she felt I was being too ‘lax’ on my house chores in that regard.

I wasn’t prideful about it, but I felt a bit ‘offended’ by the indirect jab. Then again, my previous mother had lamented how lazy I was about it until I started to pick up my slack more frequently. It was still average but… it was enough to get Pam annoyed due to her perfectionism.

Louise was soon focusing on the task itself. Palms hovering close to one another as she slowly produced ice that she molded to fit with what form she had in mind. Slowly but steadily, she started to make small ice balls. The first two were rough, the third one it was still meh, but I saw Louise’s attention increase with each loss and I saw her genuinely putting her best into learning from what she could tell were her mistakes.

By the time we had to leave, she managed to get three good spheres. Not perfect, but good enough to her.

“Can I try from zero next time?”

“Why are you asking me? That’s for you to decide.”

She was so relaxed as she heard this, and I could tell the young woman had found a nice hobby if seeing her back at the pub doing this was anything to go by. The entire experience was refreshing for me. And it gave me a bit of pride as I could tell she was inspired by what I told her.

Small but determined steps.

It was a good beginning for her…

Meanwhile, much to our utmost unawareness, someone found reason to do right rather than wrong by merely visiting the pub.

—-----d-d-d-d—------

Arthur Brown felt like life had just rained shit on his existence.

Mere days ago he was a wonderful game show host that had been happy with the kind of money and success his charisma brought to him and… then he fucked it up. A bad day fucks people in ways one can never guess, with his own arrogance and harsh reaction to a stupid contestant causing him to get fired and divorced.

The process was quite the ‘wake up call’ as he felt his wife had been staring at him as if he was a different man than the one she married. His own daughter was shocked by what he said and did and…

Arthur felt regret. Did the bastard that made him flip deserve that sort of shit? Yes, but not on live television. His mistake was not one of being in the right or being in the wrong- it was one of emotions beating his own intellect for a brief fatal moment. And now he lost it all. Fame, riches, his family- he was… alone.

Cold, beaten, defeated and… drinking at this odd pub.

He heard of this from some of the ‘friends’ he once had- a rare place where some crocodile-looking man handled the main service while his ‘plant girlfriend’ took care of moving drinks around. Arthur decided to not believe it until he was ‘forced’ to find shelter there.

The prices were good considering how hella expensive some bastards would get once they recognized him, but while the owner, Waylon Jones, seemed to remember his face, he didn’t do anything with the price.

It was the same as everyone else and, while Arthur had asked for something strong so he could burn his throat and mind, he was given something light.

“A client is always right and doesn't extend to people that are trying to kill their kidneys.”

That was… stupid. But fair. He was caught once again and… he appreciated the light drink soothing his mouth with warm and yet bitter alcohol. Arthur waited, his mind still active as the drink satisfying his thirst for something harsh on him made him awake but not drunk.

He looked around, curious and also… intrigued. The place was big. He could see some criminals and yet none seemed to really stand out as ‘dangerous fellow’. He could recognize the standard ‘Falcone attire’ style that the mobsters were wearing, but none behaved like the classic mafia soldiers of some old-style movies.

It was a safe place, that much he could say, but not because it was outright legal.

A place for… outcasts that needed a break. Heh, it made sense for Arthur to stay there for a moment and enjoy the relative warmth all around. It made his head miss those hateful thoughts and just enjoy the moment.

It made him think of those old good times. Back when he was less prone to aggressions, back when his family would come first- back when he actually put his brain where it was due rather than taking it all for granted.

…

As he paid the fee for his drink, Arthur walked up to his current home, a cheap flat, and made a very strong decision after spending weeks plotting his ‘revenge’. He had a thought in mind: why should I? Why do I need to grant them my revenge when I can be great on my own?

Arthur knew it was going to be rough with his current bad reputation, but it wasn’t like he started rich. He had to work for it and the beauty of achieving so much was truly due to that.

Slow and steady, he remarked to his own wrath. He had to be greater than them… for himself!

Thus, Arthur Brown pondered ways to redeem his career and become an independent but strong version of himself.

One step at the time.

All the while keeping on visiting that lovely pub. Feeling like it was the source of some good life-related ideas as of yet.

—----d-d-d-d—----

AN

Arthur Brown should have been the Cluemaster (and his daughter, Stephanie, would have been one of the Batgirls), but now he will not become a villain because he had that ‘one good day’ that many don’t get after falling into despair. I wonder what he will do with his incredible brain and sharp wits!