[center][IMG]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Mali%20Anson&name=Chris%27s%20Handwriting.ttf&size=50&style_color=D5FF00[/IMG] [hr][b]Location:[/b] Apartment 2B -> The Gym -> Apartment 2B again [hr][hr][/center] [i]Beep Beep[/i] Everything was back to normal. Same 6 AM alarm. Same room. Same apartment. Mali tried to shrug off her thoughts as she went about her morning schedule. She brushed her teeth with the same toothbrush as yesterday, grabbed the same old water bottle and put on workout clothes that were definitely not the same as yesterday's (gross), but still a familiar set of clothes that she wore quite a bit. It was only when she passed by her dresser again to grab her phone that she really took notice of that business card that that kid had given her yesterday. It sat there in the shuttered twilight, giving off only the dimmest of reflections possible. As if the atmosphere of the city and what had transpired mere hours ago suppressed even natural phenomena. The red light it glimmered with was just enough to make out the words again: Relic. A quiet uneasiness came over the room and time slowed to a crawl. Mali's hand moved before she could think about what it was doing and picked up the card. Call in case of emergencies, eh? Maybe that will come in handy sooner than she would have thought less than 12 hours ago. She pocketed the card, noting to herself to commit the phone number to memory later. A business card can be a fragile thing. The walk to the gym and the process of working out went as they usually did, but Mali couldn't stop the thoughts about last night any longer. Every movement her body took had her mind react, going over every last detail of not just the death, but also everything she had seen on the scene afterward. She wasn't really disturbed, or traumatized by the event. It's not like she killed or was attached to the deceased girl, but the event still didn't sit with her well. It just didn't feel right. Maybe that's just how it feels like to witness a bizarre suicide. [URL=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fmLb_Lpnd6E]Music[/URL] did little to quiet her thoughts, but she kept the headphones in, if only to keep a rhythm to keep the exercise going at a steady pace. It wasn't until on the way home when some meth head rushed her that Mali managed to truly separate her mind from the night prior. And even then, she didn't fully process that she was getting jumped until he had punched her in the face for the third time. Fucking hell, no good deed goes unpunished in Justice, does it? The meth head reared back for a fourth punch, this time to find it blocked by a thick forearm and then suddenly Mali's fist was lodged directly into his face. Mali stepped in to follow up, but received another punch square in the gut that knocked the breath out of her. She managed to avoid doubling over through sheer force of will, blocking another attack from the strung out druggie. She grit her teeth and sucked in a lungful of air that her body desperately needed, it filled her exhausted muscles with enough energy for the next thing she was about to do. She threw an uppercut that caught the druggie in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of him. She then completely returned the favor he dealt and then some, punching him twice in the face, the second time extending out her thumb, which caught his eyeball, pushing it in with a satisfyingly bloody squish. Mali withdrew her fist and noted that she'd need to wash her thumb extra well once she got home. For all she knew the guy's blood was 50% meth. The druggie grabbed his eye and ran off into the crowd before Mali could finish him off. Wait. Crowd? It was then that Mali looked around and saw that she was indeed standing in the middle of the sidewalk, surrounded by a ring of people, staring some of which had cellphones out, pointed at her and at least one kid in the back shouting "Worldstar! Worldstar!" [color=D5FF00]"What are you looking at?"[/color] Mali snapped at the audience, wiping her thumb on her leg, [color=D5FF00]"Get out of here!"[/color] The crowd gave her an extra wide berth as she left the scene of the fight. The joys of life in the city never ended.