Waylon is sitting inside of his cell, in Arkham Asylum, his back against the wall. He occasionally snarls at a passing guard, scratching the scaly skin beneath the shock collar that remains stubbornly wrapped around his neck. He looks thoroughly annoyed, like usual, shifting his yellow eyes from some guard and back down towards his clawed hands. He doesn't move nor say a word, deep in thought.

But he suddenly hears a click. The door to his cell has been remotely unlocked. And not only his own, he notices, as the sound of hundreds of footsteps and disorganized yelling fill his ears. Someone has just freed them all, and he's not going to stop to think about who it may have been.

The reptile man grins slightly, his expression almost malicious, and he stands up. He stomps out of the cell and down the hallways, the sudden chaos sounding like music to him, and his fanged grin widening every time he spots a fallen guard. But behind all that, he spots something else: a little shadow like figure. He approaches them, believing them to be another enemy, but stops in his tracks when he sees the uniform.

They're another inmate. And a rather small one, as well.

"... Ain't you a lil' too young to be here?"