(http://i.imgur.com/eao3onq.jpg)<br/><br/><br/>Rain beat down on the streets and the unlucky few who were caught out in it. A speeding taxi whipped passed an intersection, splashing some water onto a group of friends huddled along the side of the road while waiting for the light to change so they could cross. Without umbrellas, they were going to drenched soon anyways. Most of the people still left out on the streets had been more prepared. Nights like this one were far too common in February Los Angeles. Locals generally knew better than to walk around without an umbrella on nights when rain was predicted, or at least a heavy enough jacket to protect them from the elements. Either that or they found a place to hide out until the storm died down. By now the crowd had dwindled significantly, but there were still plenty of pedestrians scattered around who were willing to endure the downpour. Most of them were either drunk or headed that way. The perfect targets for a pickpocket looking for an easy score. Drunk people usually meant cash for drinks and tips, and it also meant people less aware of their surroundings.<br/><br/>Ashleigh Valentine imagined she must have picked nearly $100 tonight alone. That was a rare feat, even for her. The rain probably helped. People didn't care about anything but keeping themselves dry. One or two more, she thought, then she'd go look for a place to crash. She'd be able to afford a motel tonight. Sleeping in an actual bed would be a nice change of pace. And a private shower. She was getting tired of using the public cleaning houses down at the beach. The old women always stared at her, and Ashleigh could never tell if they wanted to fuck her, or if they were afraid of her. Was it that obvious that she was a street youth? Her clothes weren't that ragged, and it wasn't like she wore them in the showers anyways.<br/><br/>Tonight she was wearing a black Nirvana tank top and a red leather jacket over top. Her skin tight camo pants weren't exactly chic, but Ashleigh never went for chic. Even before she had moved out onto the streets she had been a free spirit. She was a punk rocker, through and through. An anarchist of sorts. That's what she liked to think anyways. Truth was, Ashleigh didn't know who or what she was. At eighteen years old, that probably wasn't extremely uncommon. But unlike other girls her age, she didn't have anyone to look up to, no role models, no firm hand of authority. It was just her against the world. That's why she felt no guilt stealing from these people. Do what you had to do to survive.  Flipping up the collar on her leather jacket, she pulled out a grey beanie from one of her pockets and pull it on over her long, golden locks. Then she put her head down and made for the closest crowd of people.<br/><br/>Her target was a tall, dark haired woman in a leather jacket and hoodie. Ashleigh didn't know exactly why, but the other woman gave her the impression of someone that carried cash rather than credit cards. She walked towards the other woman at a perpendicular angle. She had done this often enough to be able to time it perfectly. A few seconds later she bumped into the other woman. It took Ashleigh less than a second to slip her hand inside the jeans pocket and pulled out a wallet that she immediately stuffed back into her own leather jacket.<br/><br/>"Sorry," she said, and pointed up to her ear buds. They weren't actually plugged into anything. Ashleigh could afford headphones, but an iPod was too much. Then she turned to walk away, deciding that she was done for the night.