Chapter 208: Born Human

"In short, you can guess the outcome."

Killer Croc tossed the last bit of bone into his mouth, clapped his hands, and said, "That day, I woke up and turned back into a crocodile man. My olive-green skin and scales grew back, my tail regenerated, and my claws and teeth fully recovered. I went to the circus as usual and found no one could tell what I had experienced the night before."

"And then?"

"Then I gave up, went back to my main job, and entertained the audience in the ring—that was probably over ten years ago."

"Holy crap, brother, look! A crocodile and a crocodile are fighting!"

"This is a bit too scary."

Above the ring was a specially made, extra-large aquarium, and inside the aquarium was a giant crocodile-shaped crocodile and another giant humanoid crocodile.

The audience below the ring cheered, excited, shouting wildly at the aquarium; most expressions were of shock and curiosity, while a very small number showed worry and reluctance.

The two monsters in the aquarium roared, tore at each other, and fought; one opened its massive jaws and bit the other's arm, while the other extended its huge claws and struck the other's body hard.

Yes, besides one monster, what else could compete on the same stage as another monster? Since arriving at the circus, Warren's opponent had always been just one: the crocodile named "Al."

Ed, dressed in a suit and leather shoes, held a microphone and stood aside. He had no interest in what happened in the tank; his gaze fixed only on the faces of the audience below. In his eyes, each cheering face turned into a green bill, flowing endlessly into his pocket. With Warren as his money tree, the circus became an instant hit, performance revenue soared, making him happier and greedier.

And for the sake of reputation and gimmick, he also gave Warren another name.

When Warren walked out of the aquarium holding his bitten right arm, the crocodile inside had already lost consciousness. Ed, along with the spotlight, walked to his side and raised his left hand.

"Today's winner is—Killer Croc!!!"

The audience below immediately cheered.

Warren stood under the spotlight, but no one noticed the expression on his crocodile face, nor did anyone care what he thought of that name.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please continue to enjoy the circus's next performance!"

Ma Ma Zhaodi listened to this story and interjected, "That sounds painful."

"It is painful," Killer Croc replied.

"Hey, couldn't you go a little easier on Al? That crocodile cost me a full five hundred dollars! Look what you did to it."

Warren sat on a stool while a wrestler from the circus bandaged the wound on his right hand. Although there was no fracture, Warren's skin and muscle had still been bitten through in places, causing him great pain.

"Hiss—sorry, Ed," he replied gloomily.

"Forget it. Here's your share, take it."

Watching Ed throw over forty dollars, Warren paused in surprise.

"Why forty dollars? Shouldn't it be a hundred per performance?"

"Idiot, it was a hundred when we negotiated a while back. Now, I give you forty, and you should be grateful to take it."

Warren's beast-like vertical pupils shifted, looking at Ed.

"Stop it, Warren Jones. Do you have any other choice? What else can a monster like you do? Your name is 'Killer Croc.' Did you think you could go to the small town and become a dentist?"

"Besides, with your appearance, these disgusting scales, these beastly teeth and claws, you don't deserve to have more."

At this moment, another wrestler who could no longer bear to listen turned and left the backstage. Although she sympathized with Warren, she dared not offend the boss.

Seeing that Warren did not refute his words, Ed became even more brazen. He held a stack of hundred-dollar bills in front of Warren and shook them like teasing a pet: "See? This is the portion you earned from that performance. What you get in your hand is forty dollars. If you want to earn more, I can give you a way."

As he spoke, a sadistic smile appeared on his face.

"This method is very simple, Warren. You just need to let Al bite you a few more times next time—arm, hand, leg, stomach—anywhere. Anyway, you're a freak; you'll recover by the next day."

"I know too well what the audience wants to see. They love seeing a little blood in the water. The more blood, the more excited they get. If you bleed a bit more every time from now on, we can make more money—your share goes from forty to a hundred. How about it?"

Warren still said nothing; he just stared fixedly at Ed, his face expressionless.

"Oh, that look is terrifying—alright, alright, take this money." Ed pulled several hundred dollars from the stack in his hand and slapped them against Warren's face: "Come on, smile. Remember to show your teeth. Isn't that why you bare your teeth at me? But remember, there's an old saying: do not bite the hand that feeds you."

Warren knew exactly what Ed was doing now. He had once seen Ed whipping the suspended Al with a whip, then feeding it some meat. Within a few weeks, Al had become completely submissive.

But I am not Al.

Thinking this in his heart, he suddenly opened his mouth, revealing his fangs.

"After biting off Ed's arm, I ran straight away. Not long after, I appeared on the Gotham Police Department's wanted list. With no place for me to stay on the surface, I had to run to the sewers to live. I once tried to survive by eating rats, but I quickly found I could not accept such food in my heart."

"What happened later, you all know—I mixed with the underworld, became a robber, killed people, and formed gangs. Interestingly, my body is indeed very suitable for fighting and violence; my evil path went much smoother than the righteous one."

Speaking to this point, the crocodile man glanced at Ma Ma Zhaodi and said to him seriously, "I was born this way. I was meant to have scales and sharp claws, teeth and a tail. This is determined by my genes. My only mistake was wanting to be a human."

"How can that be a mistake?" Ma Ma Zhaodi replied seriously, "You just cannot be an ordinary person, but you have human dignity and values, human joys and sorrows. You speak human language, wear human clothes, can read and write. You just have some illnesses, so you look different from ordinary people. That's all."

"Actually, I think whether one counts as human depends only on whether one does human things. Borrowing words from an old white-haired man I like very much: 'Even without mutation, some people will lose their humanity.'"

"Your only fault is not your birth, but your crime—that is a mistake only a 'human' can commit."

(End of this chapter)