[u][i]Abigail "Rabbit" O'Reilly[/i][/u]

She stared to her right after someone had responded to her mumbling, squinting her eyes and trying to make out who it was that had responded to her. Her vision was beginning to get a bit fuzzy, maybe more than a bit if she kept at the drinks at this speed. It looked like Emilio was the one who’d talked to her.

“Nah, fuck this music.” Rabbit mumbled and gestured in a swaying manner, then drank the rest of the whiskey in her glass. “Wanna listen to something rowdy and fast, true music, not this… whatever you call this. Smooth jazz? Pfft, I’d show you real music, but I doubt they’ve got anything like it here.”

Rabbit let her guard down more the drunker she got, so she decided to stop drinking at this point. Otherwise she’d end up doing something she’d regret and never remember, but everyone else would remember it. Oh, people loved to remind her of those blackout moments where she’d lost her memory and caution. Some more than others.

[u][i] Umi “The Ghouls” Ichikawa[/i][/u]

Umi heard the sirens where she sat in a vacant apartment and looked up. The sirens passed her by though. She didn’t wonder what had happened this time. She just assumed someone else had fucked up. Someone had always fucked up when the police got involved. The police got involved when she did her thing too, but that was all part of the game. It was a part of life in this city for her to the point that it became as ordinary as hearing any car pass by. She evaded their attention like she evaded everyone else.

Returning her attention to her shotgun, she put the last piece back in it and then took out a rag from one of her coat pockets. She began to shine and polish the shotgun’s details, mostly to pass the time. She’d already cleaned them individually. It was a finishing touch so to speak. A couple of more hours, and it would be past midnight. She’d earn her keep this night like any night. The jewellery on her hands, around her neck and in her ears made it obvious she wasn’t lacking when it came to funds. There was no such thing as too much money, and there never would be. Growing up in poverty had made her realize how much money was worth. They said it wouldn’t buy happiness, but you’d sure as hell be more depressed without the money to get by each day.

Once she’d finished shining her weapon she loaded it with a couple of the shotgun shells she kept in her jacket, and left the vacant apartment she’d broken into hours earlier. As far as she knew no one knew where her actual home was, but she tried to avoid staying there for too many days in a row. She lived her life on the move, each day at a time, as a candle in the wind. Umi would welcome a bed for the coming day, any bed, as sleeping on the floor was bad for her back.

 She replicated herself before she exited the apartment building itself, and hid the shotgun beneath her coat. Umi walked in the dark, avoiding lights when she could, while she used her replica to scout ahead and draw the attention off of her. She headed towards the eastern parts of Mendel, where the lowlifes were everywhere. She liked the western parts more as she wasn’t as likely to be stabbed over absolutely nothing. Of course, by now it was possibly that most had some reason or other to stab her. Not like they could tell the difference between her and her replicas anyway.