[center][h1][color=00aeef]"Vikki" Velaro[/color][/h1][/center]
[center][h2][color=00aeef]2:00 AM Two nights prior. Boardwalk, Blocks from Carousel[/color][/h2][/center]

It was a sea of coated bodies and she, caught in the flood. Good, just how she wanted it. She move among them melding into the waves, pushing by grunting and muttering shoulders. Heads capped by low fedoras as the sky seemed to cry for the retched city once more. Sound was washed out by the incessant drum of falling rain, a base beat that seemed to distort and twist all other sound, even car horns feet away seemed muddled and distant a whisper of passing life. The air burned her nostrils with the seemingly endless tendrils of smoke wisping from glowing cigarettes in the dark. Like groping hands clinging their funk to everything they touched.

Her fingers danced into their pockets with airy brush strokes, like a master artist painting the coy smile of a seductress immortalizing her for all time. A light bump into a man's chest followed by an apologetic smile under dark long wet locks. Ever calming grumbles of bothered irritation in the middle of drunken walk. Never to notice her fingers slipping into his jacket breast and availing him of a money clip. 

Purses, pants pockets, jackets, all fair game to the thief. It was time to move on, even she could not predict when some keen eyed bystander or cautious victim might notice her actions. The neon poisoned sky shifted colors, reflecting in pools along the sidewalk. the concrete beaten and warn like a boxer after too many fights, she lost count and care after eight. A block father she wasn't sure why but she deftly slipped her had into one more pocket, they seemed to be in a hurry, a quickened stride moving against her favorite kind of sea. Features hidden like all the rest. Vikki wincing as she stuffed her plunder into her pocket, she quickly hurried away. zigzagging through the thick crowd, one thin body among shoulder to shoulder large forms, gone in moments. Once she dared, she scurried down into an alleyway like a rat wary of being pounced by a cat.

Crimson.

Vikki brought her fingertip to her lips sucking at the running prick on her finger. She leaned pressing her slender back against the cold wet bricks, the ever toxic neon of street lights and signs barely bled through here..bled less than her finger. Growing curious lowers her hand into her pocket, watches and money-clips shifting. There it is, feeling the villain that assaulted her poor innocent finger. 

A White Rose.