#murderled

@murderled

What the fuck did a guy have to do to have one goddamn good night? Was this some sort of divine judgement, God shaking His almighty middle finger at Zack for surviving all the shit he did in the past? Because if it was, Zack was determined to find a way to punch God in his smug face if he didn’t get some fucking cheetos.

So far, every corner store had shooed him off like a stray cat, probably correctly assuming him to be some hooligan out to cause trouble. He never even had time to think about it before someone was telling him to get out, or staring at him as if he were a freak. Which he could understand, it wasn’t often tall strangers wrapped in bandages and wearing hoodies waltzed into corner markets with a bad attitude to match the glares he kept shooting at people.

Still! 

His money was the same as everyone else’s right? Needless to say, Zack was in a downright fowl mood. So when some blond haired pretty boy entered his line of sight, Zack’s first impulse reaction was to pick a fight and hopefully get to bury a knife in someone’s gut, or, at the very least, have some fun that evening.

“Hey! Pretty boy!” He called, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and walking directly toward the blond, shoulders hunched and a dangerous glint in his mismatched eyes. “The fuck do you think you’re doin’ out here so late at night?” A grin crossed his face, every motion radiating a desire to fight someone. Honestly, he didn’t even care if he won or even got close to him; he just wanted to see someone make a terrified face other than stupid store clerks. 

if ivy had a dollar for every time she’d been at the end of a gun, she could probably afford to own a gun. she seizes up, part of her would never get over the fear of violence. the fear of death - despite her history of avoiding it so well. if she were still in gotham, she’d have the upper hand. she would’ve been wise and aided herself with a toxin or perfume, something that would’ve been useful. now she’s not only in a city she’s never been in, but still broke, homeless, and without her remedies.

“i’m pamela,” she flinches when she says it. she hates that name, however her name and appearance could easily give her away to anyone who knew she was wanted in the states. 

ivy pepper, teenager, bright red hair, homeless however not not to be approached. considered armed and dangerous. cash reward.

it was flattering, kind of.