Chapter Text
Poverty.
One of the many words that may be used to describe the streets of the infamous Gotham City.
People huddled around the flame of a fire as it burned within a barrel, young ones burrowed within cardboard boxes, clinging to each other to hold onto what little heat they can salvage, dirt caked onto their skin in heavy layers making what once was light now almost black as it looked they have not had a decent shower nor meal in months.
The homeless turn to me as my heavy combat boots crunch on the slush that had begun to melt over the period of the day, Gotham's weather the most bipolar in December.
A gang of rough, raggedy but rough, looking men turned their attention in my direction, taking in the skinny jeans that fit my long, slender legs, the black, 'My Chemical Romance' shirt that fit me like a warm hug, and the leather jacket in which I tugged closer to my body.
Rounding a corner, a man came out and gripped my forearm, looking down at me.
"¿Su negocio aquí?" The man growled in Spanish.
"I am sure that is none of your concern, sir," I replied. I moved my leather jacket a few inches, revealing my hip. The man instantly let go of my arm, letting me out of the scum-filled alley.
I put the jacket back in place, smirking as I walked down the sidewalk, carrying the heavy backpack.
What?
I didn't think he'd be afraid of the unloaded gun tucked into my jeans.
Oops.
As I walked, I took in the homeless people on one side of the street, and yet as I looked over to the other side, women were wearing fur jackets, pearl necklaces, carrying Marc Jacobs bags, and then men in fancy suits.
This town has serious problems.
I was so out of it, thinking about everything I was taking in, I barely realized the person coming towards me until I slammed right into his chest.
"Woah, there, you alright?" He asked, placing two firm hands on my shoulders.
"Huh?" I looked up, a little taken aback by the intensity of his blue eyes. "Oh! Yeah, I'm alright."
"My bad, sorry," he let go, flipping his long hair out of his eyes. I shrugged and was about to walk around him but a hand shot out and grabbed my arm.
What the fuck is it with people and grabbing me today?
"Uh, I'm Napier. Randal Napier," he said a little softer, seeing that I was a little irritated. I turned and looked at him.
"Veronica."
"Well, good to meet you, Veronica. You new to Gotham?"
"Is it that obvious?" I asked, laughing lightly.
"You seem a bit more punk than the people in the city," he replied.
"You're pretty punk yourself, Doll Face," I motioned to his snakebites.
"So I'm Doll Face, now?" he smirked, leaning back on a wall, once again flipping his hair from his face.
"Possibly," I returned the smirk. With a wink, I turned and walked down the street, continuing the short walk to my destination.