#arxdrop

arxjeongmin

she was cursing at the fact that she was in this hell hole.

she wouldn’t have been sent here if it hadn’t been by the request of her leader that spoke of the dangers the titan formula proved to be on the citizens of both gotham and arkham city. gritting her teeth, she had to continuously tell herself that she was here on a mission, that soon enough they’d find a way out and this would be over. but that didn’t stop her hunger taking the better of her and her increasingly sour attitude.

after bearing witness the the only drop in amusement mile hitting the icy waters that half engulfed the district, she’d showcased her anger by throwing a number of brick at the solid ice and screaming out for all to hear as her stomach growled horribly. she needed food, she needed it.

deciding that she wouldn’t get anything by sticking around the flooded streets of her home, she venturing out, moving through somewhat busy streets speckled with those fighting for what they believed was theirs and killing for the last of the food dropped from the fiery explosion above their heads. she wanted to find someone weak, someone who couldn’t put up a fight - yet as she continued through, her hope seemed to dwindle.

when she reached park row, she had all but given up entirely. that was until she spotted someone hauled a bag of food along the street. it seemed like an awful lot for just one person, and with her shoulders squared she rushed forward, the gun strapped to her back bouncing along with her small strides.

arxhani

     - - seated just past the gate of the old sionis steel mill, a heavy winter coat stolen from a penguin thug tugged over his shoulders to keep him warm - he sat in silence as he gnawed at the stale bread in his grasp. he had witnessed the drop, the spread of the white parachutes against the night sky, as well as the blaze of the explosions that left him staring to the skies with a cheer as eyes sparkled with the excitement that followed.

with that push of adrenaline, he’d killed the first one that entered his line of vision, and with the need to steal what he believed was rightfully his, he’d challenged the equally as eager penguin thug with the shards of a broken bottle.

now that he had a coat to help him through the bitter winter, a small crate of unfortunately stale bread and speaks of blood splattered across his face, he was quite content with simply sitting out of the way of those who purged in the streets with a hail of gun fire and furious screams as they fought for the last of the food that had been dropped.