That mist was extremely strange, like a gateway to another world. Behind the giant known as the King of Frost, Edvard Olafsson, a disorderly army emerged from the fog as well.
These warriors wore thicker armor, carried larger weapons, and had slightly bluer skin. Clearly, they were the main fighting force.
The ones thrown into the sewers earlier and killed with laughing gas had merely been lackeys tasked with driving prey into an ambush during the hunt.
"Fuck! What kind of monsters are those?! Brothers, fight for your lives!"
Batwoman and the Joker had yet to make any major moves, but the lively groups of looters on the street could not endure it any longer. Those people had frozen several Black brothers the moment they appeared, and the television store had been swallowed by the mist. In such freezing temperatures, the electronics inside were probably ruined.
Killing did not matter. When you ran with the streets, you were already living with your head on your belt. Everyone understood that. Human lives were the cheapest thing there was.
But destroying the electronics department store, the place with the fattest profits, meant cutting off everyone's livelihood. That was intolerable.
So the Black brothers in the streets all pulled out weapons. Their baggy pants were practically hanging down to their knees, but that did not stop them from tucking guns into their waistbands. After one Black man shouted, the previously scattered looters suddenly seemed to find a backbone and united against the outsiders.
Dense gunfire swept wildly toward the blue army. In the distinctively Black style of shooting, they raised their guns over their heads and fired one-handed, looking immensely professional.
The gunshots were the signal that battle had begun. The Frost Army charged. Firearms were almost completely useless against them; the clanging