(You're bringing out my inner serial killer with these characters

)
Adele wrinkled her nose in disgust when she noticed the spots of blood on her shoulders. Filth. Didn't even have the decency to die cleanly, she thought as she sheathed her knives. She touched her second victim's elbow with the toe of her boot before stopping to make sure he was dead. She'd be surprised if he wasn't, what with the amount of blood his torn body now lay in. He didn't flinch so she nudged him against the wall, out of her path. She pat him down, checking for weapons that may be handy for her own use; if they couldn't be that then she could always sell them. She practically beamed with her finds: a fully loaded handgun, as well as several small knives. Knives were her favorite; no doubt about that. She pocketed it all and headed to the next room, having bolted the door from inside.
She jumped, just slightly, when Sybil's fist came crashing down. Adele swore under her breath and hurried to see what the ruckus was. Only, she didn't make it there immediately. She spotted a door off to the side. It was bolted, but with a few nicks with a knife she had it open. Shelves crates and shelves lined the narrow room, and she let out a low whistle, pleased with how this day was going. She ran her hand along the shelves, but didn't pull anything out. Not yet. The weapons she saw were nothing fancy, but numbers were what mattered.