Marvel : Master of Role-Playing

"You bastard! Do you think I'll fall for that again?"

Just moments ago, a metallic fist hidden in the gift box had punched him squarely in the face. Killer Croc could still feel the throbbing pain, so there was no way he would take Reid's outstretched hand now.

"You dare reach out to me? Then I'll crush your hand with my teeth!"

Killer Croc's eyes glinted with bloodthirsty malice as he opened his massive jaws and bit down on Reid's extended hand.

In an instant, blood splattered everywhere. Reid's hand was crushed to pieces in Killer Croc's jaws.

"Die, you damn bastard!"

Killer Croc bellowed. He was certain that the clown before him would now show a terrified expression after losing a hand in one bite.

Surely, this fool had underestimated him—a clever crocodile who didn't fall for the handshake trap and instead acted with decisive aggression.

But when Killer Croc looked at the Joker, he froze. To his astonishment, the clown showed no pain whatsoever. Instead, he calmly used his remaining hand to pull something out from behind his back.

The next moment, a powerful electric current surged through Killer Croc's mouth and coursed through his entire body.

"AHHHHH!!!"

Killer Croc immediately opened his mouth. In the severed hand's palm was a small prank shock device, continuously emitting an intense electrical charge.

"You... bastard! Who... pulls pranks like this?!"

Although it looked like an ordinary prank device from the outside, the electric current it unleashed was incredibly powerful. By the time the current ceased, Killer Croc felt completely drained, his strength utterly sapped. He collapsed to the ground, and to his horror, a faint aroma of cooked crocodile meat began wafting from his body.

"Wow, I thought you could handle it. Didn't expect you'd almost get cooked," Reid remarked with a look of exaggerated surprise.

His smug, punchable expression reignited Killer Croc's fury, even though his body was drained of strength.

"Even if I die today, I'll make sure to take you with me!"

Summoning strength from who-knows-where, Killer Croc managed to stand up once more. He spread his massive arms, ready to grab the clown in front of him.

But just as his hands reached for Reid, the clown suddenly pulled another gift box from behind and shoved it into Killer Croc's hands.

"You don't seem to have much energy, so let me help you open it."

With that, Reid "helpfully" tugged on the ribbon of the gift box. As the box opened, its contents were revealed—a perfectly cartoonish, spherical bomb with a lit fuse, just like something out of an animated show.

"Good luck," Reid said cheerfully, waving as he stepped back.

The bomb exploded with a deafening roar. The blast was so massive it shook the entire surrounding sewer system. Even cars passing above ground felt the tremors from the explosion.

"Cough, cough... Maybe I should switch the smoke from the explosions to a strawberry scent next time. What do you think?"

Reid waved his hand, dispersing the thick cloud of smoke left by the explosion.

Not far from him, Killer Croc lay sprawled on the ground, his body covered in wounds. Despite the pain, he was straining to stand again.

"You... despicable, shameless bastard!!!"

Like Marvel's Dr. Curt Connors, the Lizard, Killer Croc also possessed an extraordinary healing ability. The wounds caused by the electric shock and bomb were rapidly closing, and his strength was returning. Slowly, he pushed himself off the ground.

"I swear, I'll kill you! I'll rip you apart!"

Reid, unfazed by Croc's furious threats, crouched down, bringing his face level with the enraged reptilian villain.

"Buddy, it's your turn now."

The moment Reid finished speaking, Killer Croc, who had just begun to lunge, was abruptly stopped. A massive hand grabbed his head and slammed it hard into the ground with a thunderous crash.

"Solomon Grundy! Born on a Monday!!"

Taking advantage of the chaos caused by the explosion, Solomon Grundy had already approached from behind. His sudden, overwhelming strike left Killer Croc completely incapacitated.

Helpless and pinned down, Killer Croc could only glare hatefully at Reid. Meanwhile, Reid casually stood up, brushed the dust off his pants, and gave an almost playful smirk, as if enjoying the spectacle.

"Oh my, oh my! Our new friend seems a little upset. Solomon, what do you think we should do about it?"

Though it seemed like Reid was asking Solomon, it was clear he was mostly talking to himself. Before Solomon could even respond, Reid had already decided on a course of action.

With a dramatic flourish, he pulled out a bottle of ladies' perfume. However, the liquid inside was an unsettling, pulsating green.

"Come now, my friend, let's put a smile on that face..."

With a devilish grin, Reid sprayed the green gas directly onto Killer Croc's face.

At first, inhaling the strange gas seemed to have no effect. But slowly, its influence began to take hold.

"Haha... hahaha... HAHAHA!!!"

Killer Croc's face remained contorted with anger, yet his mouth betrayed him, curling into an uncontrollable smile as bursts of laughter erupted against his will.

"HAHAHAHA!!"

Reid gestured for Solomon to release Killer Croc, and despite being free, Croc made no move to attack.

The reason was simple: he was laughing. Laughing uncontrollably, with every ounce of strength in his massive body dedicated to the act.

The green gas had taken over completely, forcing every fiber of his being to prepare for laughter. He could still think—his mind burning with fury—but he had no control over his body.

He couldn't stand, couldn't stop, and worst of all, he couldn't even breathe.

In his desperate laughter, he had forgotten how to draw a breath.

"HAHAHAHA!!"

"HAHAHAHA!!!"

As Killer Croc's laughter grew more frantic and desperate, Reid couldn't help but join in, bursting into his own maniacal laughter as if the chaos was a delightful performance meant solely for him.

The sound of their laughter echoed through the sewer, but the contrast was stark—one was a genuine, gleeful cackle, while the other was a desperate wail, the last cry of a soul teetering on the edge of collapse.

Of course, Killer Croc wouldn't die. Reid had no intention of letting that happen. He wanted Croc alive, molded into a loyal enforcer to carry out his bidding.

…...

Above the sewer, at a Maroni's Bar

Inside the dimly lit bar, tensions were high. Gang members affiliated with the Maroni and Falcone families had gotten into a drunken brawl.

Since the bar was Maroni territory, the Falcone thugs were outnumbered and quickly overpowered. Baseball bats, beer bottles, and golf clubs became makeshift weapons as they mercilessly beat down the Falcone members.

Gradually, the beaten men's resistance grew weaker. It seemed like they were moments away from being bludgeoned to death.

At that moment, the door burst open with a loud kick, revealing a middle-aged man with glasses and a determined glare. His handgun was raised, aimed directly at the attackers.

"EVERYONE, STOP RIGHT NOW!"

The man was James Gordon, a newly transferred police captain from Chicago, still unfamiliar with the dark, twisted ways of Gotham City. Driven by his unwavering belief in justice, he had stumbled upon this scene of violence and, despite knowing this was gangland territory, had charged in to put an end to it.

"Huh? What's this about? Did someone call the cops?" one of Maroni's goons asked, peering out the door.

"No one's out there…" another muttered, confused.

The gangsters didn't show Gordon the slightest shred of respect. To them, cops were less useful than the average passerby on the street.

"I SAID, STOP!" Gordon shouted again, his voice firm and unyielding.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three gunshots rang out, silencing the room. The gang members froze, startled by the officer's audacity. They quickly realized this newcomer was clueless about Gotham's unwritten rules, a naïve hothead who didn't understand how things worked in their city.

"Now," Gordon commanded, his voice ice-cold, "everyone, hands on your heads, and get down on the ground!"

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