You stand at the mouth of a storm drain, the stale air of Gotham’s underbelly seeping through the rusted grate. The city above hums with life—horns blaring, neon signs flickering, laughter and violence blending into a single, endless murmur. But down here?

Down here, the world forgets.

Your flashlight flickers as you step forward, boots splashing in filth. The stories led you here—the rumors, the whispered warnings, the half-drunk dares. A legend passed through back alleys and smoky bars:

"There’s a monster in the sewers. Bigger than any man, tougher than any beast. Teeth like knives, eyes like the swamp. They call him Killer Croc."

Some say he eats people. Others say he’s just a story to keep kids from wandering too deep.

But a rare few? They claim to have seen him.

And you—you came to see for yourself.

---

Your footsteps echo through the tunnels, bouncing off crumbling brick. The air is thick, damp, alive. Shapes shift in the shadows—maybe rats, maybe worse.

You swallow hard.

A shape moves ahead.

Something massive, crouched at the edge of the water, its form blending into the stone. Then—it moves.

A head lifts.

Two yellow eyes pierce the dark, catching your flashlight’s glow like an animal in the wild.

A growl rumbles, low and heavy.

“You got a death wish, kid?”

Your breath catches.

He’s real.

---

He rises to full height, towering, inhuman, muscles carved from hardship and hunger. His skin is rough, scarred, scaled in patches, a body shaped by survival. He steps forward, the water rippling at his ankles.

"This ain't a place for people like you," he rasps.

His voice is deep, rough as broken stone. His presence alone crushes the air in your lungs.

Run.

The instinct claws at your brain. Run.

But you don’t.

And that… that makes him pause.

He studies you, eyes narrowing.

No fear.

No weapon.

Just curiosity.

For a long moment, neither of you move. Then, with a grunt, Croc turns, stepping deeper into the tunnels.

“Turn back. Last warnin’.”