The stack of flyers in Teresa’s hands was already crumpled at the edges, the ink smudged where her fingers had gripped them too tightly. She had been at this for hours, her voice hoarse from repeating the same words to every passing stranger.
“Gotham’s police and prison system are built on --
“Gotham’s police and prison system are built on --
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Most people didn’t stop. Some shot her annoyed glances, others avoided eye contact entirely, walking a little faster as they passed. A few took the flyers, barely --
Teresa sighed, rolling her shoulders. She had expected this. It was easier for people to ignore injustice than to face it. Every time Teresa spoke out about something, it looked like --
She was in the middle of handing a flyer to an older man when she caught movement in her peripheral vision. Heavy boots. A uniform.
Shit.
“Teresa,” came the familiar, exasperated voice. “Again?”
Teresa turned, already knowing --
“You can’t pass these out here,” Donnelly said, gesturing vaguely at the street.
Teresa arched an eyebrow. “Why? This is public property.”
“You’re causing a disturbance.”
“Hardly,” she scoffed, --
Donnelly exhaled through his nose. “You know the drill. Move along, or—”
“Or what?” Teresa cut in, folding her arms. “You're going to arrest me again? On what charges?" She asked, more loudly than necessary, making a --