Chapter 05: How to build an Empire (Part 2)
[Clock - 09:00 | 09:00 AM]
[Calendar (D/M/Y) - 05/01/2003]
[Location: Abandoned Subway Station - Old Gotham, Gotham City]
----
"I think this place would be a pretty good starting point." Looking around, Atlas smiled- the long tunnels could be reused, the abandoned and broken down rusty train would be a good place to make a temporary base of operations. "Sure, it needs a bit of-" His finger touched a fragile pillar, where half of it was partially gone and other half was falling apart, and from his touch alone the remaining pieces of the pillar fell apart, revealing the bent and broken metal bars inside. "-renovations, but I can make use of it." He ignored the way Waylon seemed a little hesitant as he looked at the ceiling above them, specially the glaring danger of having several pounds of rock and concrete above them. They were, after all, in one of the oldest and least structurally sound regions of Gotham, but the one with the most amount of abandoned and unused places, which were the places Atlas said could be of use to them.
[<Swaying of the Breeze>]
[<Rusty Metal Groaning>]
Pushing his rather rusty wheelchair forward, Atlas sighed softly, trying to calm down his nerves- Finally, he would put to practice what he has been training for the past 2 days. It might sound ridiculous, but he has been working on it seriously, going as far as making a deal with Baytor to have his help in this entire project- Although Baytor was the Demonic Patron of the Criminally Insane, he was also a demon who has spent who knows how long unable to speak to another being, so the desperate demon agreed to make a deal with Atlas for the simple price of being a companion for the future kingdom they were going to build.
"[Baytor (Concerned): I Am Baytor... Baytor? (Kid, I know you said there were uses for places like these-]"
[<Cracking sound>]
[<Falling rock sound>]
[<Swishing of a cloack>]
Barely dodging a piece of the ceiling that had almost fallen into his body, looked at Atlas who didn't even pay attention to what had happened. Instead, he was looking at the pillars around him and at the ceiling: "Hum... We need to add a few pillars to hold the weight from above- what even is above us? I forgot to ask, Waylon." Turning to look at his crocodilian friend, he found him staring into the wall-
What is it that you need to consider whenever making an empire?
In Atlas' humble opinion, you need about five things to start having an empire. You need money, you need people, you need land, and you need both political power and military power.
But an empire also needs a strong ruler.
-right on the wall, there was a large poster with wear and tear, looking like a rather old poster with mold growing over it.
"...Haly's Circus." Atlas rolled closer to Waylon, although a bit difficult seeing as his wheelchair was not the best. Seriously, he had made it! Oh, right. On the past two days, Atlas has been rather busy! After he read the [Book 3 - Explanation about the many, many, many, oh so fucking many different worlds, dimensions, universes, multiverses, and other shit out there because god knows you'll need this like holy fuck.] he learned that not only are all universes simultaneously real and alive in their own way, he decided to make a few objectives to himself so he could start improving, and after reading for two days, he settled into his objectives.
First one was locomotion. He didn't have legs, but he also couldn't rely on others to carry him around, so he decided to make himself a wheelchair that could hold him! He couldn't exactly use the best materials because this was Gotham, so he picked up another book alongside the titled [Anatomy of a Wheelchair], and that was his first and only studied magical book- The tome of [Transmutation Magic: Beginner's Guide to Basic Spells, by Transmutation High Wizard Kalandros de Vebir] that was from a familiar setting, of a certain tabletop RPG game. He was able to put what he learned to practice by making this wheelchair by using different parts of broken shit and using the cantrip [Mending] to "fix" it together, making metal seemingly fuse together with the simple movement of a finger hovering over it and the whisper of a single magical word.
He spent so much time practicing the cantrip that didn't need even to whisper the magical word anymore- he was verh proud of that, since that was the only thing that was keeping his "wheelchair" together. 'Seriously, I need to make a better one...' But for that he would either need better resources or learn more Transmutation Spells that can help him with this, but he still doesn't have enough power to truly cause a lot of change to reality... If he trained enough with [Act Like you Know It, Learn as you Do] he might be able to use magic equivalent of higher "spell slots", even though what he was doing was using his own internal energy to cast spells. [Book - 3] explained that because he was now user of the [Endless Library System], he had a very adaptive body that could adapt to any technique, magic, or knowledge he learned, enough that his body would start producing magic energy for magical spells, internal energy for martial arts, and even psyonic energy for psychic powers or similar.
"...Are you okay, Waylon?" He didn't want to push the issue, but the little he knew about his backstory, he might be able to gather why Waylon had stopped and started to stare at this poster without blinking for a while- Croc turned to look at him, his pupil just a slit, and for a moment Atlas felt fear. Angrily, Waylon's claws sank into the concrete of the wall and dragged it, until there were five long gashes and the poster was completely unrecognizable. "Waylon, I'm already going to have a hard time bringing this place up to my standards, please don't destroy it further, okay?" Placing a hand on the cold scales of the arm big enough to break him in half, Atlas tried to look as harmless as possible- and considering he was extremely harmless to Waylon, it was an easy feat to accomplish. Atlas gave the big crocodilian man a smile, softly speaking: "I'm sorry for whatever you have been through, and I am very sorry if seeing that poster caused you pain... I don't know if I can make it better, if you need time alone, you can leave me here and I'll start the renovations with Baytor."
Waylon, huffing like a beast, turned to look at the little Demon- he was clearly upset and angry, and he needed some time to wind down a bit. "[Waylon Jones (Angry, Upset, Sad): Don't leave this place... I'll be back.]" Turning around and with heavy steps- seriously, he was stepping hard on the ground, hard enough that there were new holes in the shape of crocodile feet! -Waylon took the stairs up, the same stairs he had to slowly lower Atlas through because the ramp down was blocked by a huge piece of concrete of the partially fallen ceiling. His tail slapped hard against the already fallen pieces of concrete, and they shattered under the impact. He turned around one last time, he took off his only piece of clothing- kinda slutty, not gonna lie -and threw his leather jacket towards Atlas, who picked it up from the ground where it fell: "[Waylon Jones (Angry, Upset, Sad): I'll be back... I will, so use that for warmth or whatever, it gets cold down these places.]" With that, he left.
Atlas, meanwhile, looked down at the leather jacket in his arms... "I think there was a book about enchanting things." His fingers brushed against the leather, and the small cuts simply closed, as if they were never there to begin with- seriously, magic is awesome! 'Also, it smells like leather...' Heh, kinda ironic. "Okay, time to work on what I can-" With his fingers ready, Atlas started to go around and used [Mending] to mend and repair everything he could, with Baytor helping him move around by pushing his wheelchair. Getting into the train was a chore, but by [Mending] two broken planks of wood together, he was able to make one big enough for him to roll into an abandoned cart of the train, with Baytor's help.
Time to start his Second objective- growing stronger by learning everything he can. "Let's see..." He pulled into his mental library and began to read more about Transmutation Magic, he was going learn a few different things to show off to Waylon when he's back.
----
POV Change
Waylon Jones - Killer Croc
Waylon felt many things at that moment.
Shame, anger, spite, embarrassment, and a tiny bit of fear.
He had been... triggered, as the doctors at Arkham Asylum loved to explain to him. That poster reminded him of a few memories that he'd rather hide away, mostly because they made him remember his childhood and his time at the Haly's Circus and how much of a nightmare that shit was. He found "job" at the circus when he was 12, and for 10 years of his life he spent inside a cage as a freak of nature, as something to be gawked at and ridiculed... After his aunt killed herself when he was 11 and he had to spend a whole year as a homeless person, he grew a soft spot in his heart for the victims of Gotham's cruelty.
His time at the Haly's Circus was a terrible experience, being exploited was terrible, and being mistreated was not good either. But he endured, mostly because lashing was not something he truly believed himself capable of- until that night. For context, he had been a good "friend" to the Graysons, they would speak to him sometimes and he'd also see how they were... trapped, by the fucking bloodsucking son of a bitch that was Haly Haller. Haly was the owner of the circus and the conman that managed to make the Graysons sign a contract that made everything they owned basically property of the circus until they bought it all back, and somehow that included documents too. With that power, he signed various other things and tied it to their names, and Waylon watched as he could not do anything about it... Their son, Dick, was one of the only children that never looked at him with fear in his eyes.
That was why he snapped when he heard the news- faulty rope, falling to their deaths, Haly ends up with everything (even the littlest fucking thing) the Graysons ever had. He snapped- it was clear to him that Haly was the one who did this, and it pained him to know that one of the few people that looked at him like he was a person, like he was someone worthy of more than scraps, had died.
So he ate him.
It was only natural for him- something inside him, something he had been suppressing, simply snapped. When he woke up later, he was munching on the bones of the man he had just killed, and worse... it tasted good. Then, that same night, he tried to escape- he was so afraid of what he could do to others, that he ran... right into Dick.
And that was the first time Dick looked at him in fear.
Waylon doesn't blame him. He was covered in blood, and there pieces of human flesh on his teeth, and he was holding a human femur...
'It doesn't matter.' Shaking himself off of those terrible memories, Waylon focused instead on something else- finding people to his future empire, empire which Atlas (Who names their kid Atlas?) was now starting to build the very foundation of in an abandoned subway station.
As he walked into a dark alley, he stopped.
"Killer Croc."
He didn't have to turn around to know who that was.
"Batman."