In the pitch-black tunnel, two glowing pairs of eyes suddenly brightened. Batman emerged from the darkness first, looking through the smoke of the explosion and straight ahead at the tunnel. Following behind him was an extremely sturdy figure who had to stoop to move forward in the two-meter-high passage.
What first appeared in the light was a crocodile's mouth, then limbs that resembled both a crocodile and a human, a colossal tail. Batman turned to him and asked, "Waylon, can you still smell it?"
The gigantic Killer Croc bowed his head, lightly sniffed, and responded in a low, gravelly voice, "They left through this path. My sense of smell is not wrong…"
His face, lined with bulging scales, scrunched into an even more ferocious expression as he said, "It's too dry here, I greatly dislike it."
"Dry?" Batman asked with some confusion, "Are you sure? This is under the Gotham Underground Aquifers, which is exceedingly rich in groundwater. No matter how you look at it, it's hardly dry, right?"
"That's the odd part." As Killer Croc moved forwards, his weight caused the tunnel to vibrate slightly, "I used to live in Gotham's sewers, which were very humid and dark. I liked it there, but this place is just the opposite. I feel like I'm drying up."
Batman squinted his eyes and as they moved forward, he replied, "Thankfully, you're here Waylon, or else in such a dark and narrow environment, I really wouldn't know how to locate them."
"No need to thank me, Batman. You saved me from the warehouse fire back then. If it weren't for you, I might have been crushed to death." Killer Croc glanced at his torso. Even though his regenerative capabilities left no trace of scars, the memory of being pinned under heavy debris and scorched by merciless flames was still fresh in his mind.
Back in the day, Bruce, working as a warehouse manager in the slums, once worked with Killer Croc. During that time, the warehouse suddenly caught fire and Bruce saved Killer Croc. Subsequently, Bruce visited Killer Croc again and heard his story.
Killer Croc was born with these deviant genes, leading him to be taunted by classmates and friends since childhood. He only came to Gotham after he could no longer withstand life in regular society.
Originally, he lived peacefully in the sewers, but the chilling incident in Gotham almost trapped him in the sewer. Unable to live in the sewers any longer, he had to seek accommodation above ground, and to find a home, he needed to get a job first.
The vast majority of jobs couldn't employ someone with his peculiar looks, only the physically demanding job of a porter turned a blind eye to appearances. As a result, Killer Croc secured a steady job with decent pay, even managed to save some money, which helped him through his time of recuperation at home.
"We need to hurry," Killer Croc said, "I only asked for a half-day leave. If I get back late, I may miss dinner. The boss said he'd save a live chicken for me tonight..."
His swallowing echoed throughout the dark tunnel. Batman, picking up the pace, followed in the direction Killer Croc had indicated.
Meanwhile, elsewhere, Shiller was brought again to a larger hideout mentioned by the agents. He was seated on a chair.
Seeing Lauren preparing rope, he shook his head and said, "I advise you to not waste your efforts. Otherwise, when you have to move me later, it will only delay things."
"We aren't going to move you again." Scott, who was standing next to him, began, "We'll stay here until our superior arrives to take you away. Soon, you'll be taking a flight to Washington, Professor. You'd better pray the folks in Washington have as good a temper as I, otherwise…"
He scoffed coldly; the threat in his voice was apparent. But Shiller wasn't bothered by him or his threat; instead, he was assessing the setup of the entire hideout and found it to be indeed larger and more sophisticated.
Specifically, the hideout consisted of seven large tunnels leading in diverse directions. Abundant lighting equipment made it brighter than the other smaller rooms. More importantly, defensive fortifications were set up at every junction and numerous ammo boxes were stacked in the deepest part of the room.
The agents who had just arrived started to change their gear. Initially, when they were assigned escort duty, each of them was equipped with a single handgun, leaving a couple of long spears in the vehicle. Here, however, not only were there rifles of various makes, they also had rocket launchers and grenades. The ammunition here was sufficient to wage a small-scale war.
However, Shiller was merely interested in the three tunnels in front of him. He hesitated for a moment before saying, "Don't tell me that the few roadblocks you've put up at the entrance of the tunnels are your so-called 'defensive measures'?"
Following Shiller's gaze, the three tunnels in front of him were the largest, each with explosion-proof barriers and coils at their entrances. Scott replied, shaking his head, "You don't need to use such tactics to undermine our confidence, Professor. We all know you're a renowned psychologist, well-versed in all kinds of psychological warfare."
"In the initial attack, you deliberately reminded us to run away in advance, even suggesting a fallback plan for us, trying to convey that you're on our side, in order to lower our guard."