Before leaving votes please recite me what you did/ did n't like.

The sun rose softly, slowly over the horizon. Colleen a diminutive Arctic fox awakens in her pent household in down town Miami. With a moan she arches her back and stretches her arm above her head.
"wellspring ... metre to get quick for work."She speaks out to herself not really sure why. She stands and makes her way to the residue room, where she looks herself over in the mirror. Her boob are small yet firm, a easy B cup, even though she secretly wishes they where bigger. She giggled a niggling as she looked at her thoughtfulness. No one, could ever suspect that she did what she did for a livelihood. After all who would distrust this 5'3"tall petite daughter to be a professional sniper for hire.

Her shower was quick, and efficient, just they way she preferred to restrain her animation. While showering she thought about her charge this night. Her prey was going to be unmanageable. She had spent workweek picking the utter position to claim her shaft, but that still did not make it any sluttish. To shoot a prey while he stands upon a moving boat is almost unimaginable for even the most highly take professionals. Sighing she turned the hot body of water off, stepped out, and began the process of drying her fur. It takes her quite sometime, as it does with well-nigh others. Once done she wanders around her pent house for a bit, before finding her way onto the balcony, still nude. Up here though she did n't really worry about anyone seeing her like this. The sun felt terrific on her fur, and she liked the way it made her almost seem to glow. She wished she could spend all of her time like this, but this was a day time pleasure. Night, Nox on the other helping hand brought with them the darkness of the Earth. She loved both halve of the day though. She loved the hunt, though she felt lusted for it would be a improve news. Finding her prey, picking the spot to take her injection from, the feel of the heavy rifle pressed into her articulatio humeri, the phone, the smell of the gun being fired. All of it excited her to an almost unhealthful level.

With the people she was taking out though it was a well deserved joy. After all, what could be break than taking out those that had forced you into sexual thrall before she had even had her first cycle. She licked her brim as she wandered over to the chair on the patio and laid out. Her thoughts turned to two weeks ago, her net mission, her last target. She reminisced about the job longingly.

It was a dark muggy night in late June, her positioning New Mexico. The prey, Salvio O'Mally, a thug looking orange tree haired cat. She remembered him all to well."The Trainer"the slavers called him, due to his particular acquirement at breaking the more rebellious spirits within the ranks of the recently captured tyke. She herself spent many an days in his"care ”. She fought, and fought against the slaveholder, and often it ended with a birdsong to him. She had picked a spot, deep within the desert, and lie in herself out under and overhang of rock-and-roll a few dozen pes from the rear of a cliff side. As she had learned in her weeks of following the old cat, he enjoyed taking a dune buggy out into the desert as often as his"work"would set aside him to. This particular day though he was in for a surprisal. In her implements of war she held her darling rifle. An XS-1, which fired the .338 Lapua Magnum daily round. Her bullet however carried and extra something exceptional in them this day. Each bout she carried held an explosive center, wrapped in tungsten steel. As she looked over her equipment one last meter she saw the dust swarm that was Salvio riding around in the scandal. Another thing she loved about the XS-1 was the CRO it came with. It tracked wind swiftness and direction, EL, humidity, length, all the things she needed to make out to cipher her guesswork. Made her job that much easy, but then again what else did she expect from a $ 20,000 weapon arrangement. She watched him for a bit. Letting him enjoy his last few moment alive. Then as he started to head nearer to her location she attached her muffler, just in showcase he had his lout out with him, and began to line up her shot. She took a deep breather, held and right as she released she squeezed the haircloth trigger on the rifle. A balmy, psst came from the barrel as the bullet raced out of the barrel at 3,000 feet per second. A bit later a low"clack"was heard as the fastball made contact with the engine of the buggy, stopping it dead in its tracks.

She had to agitate not to express mirth as the old cat coasted to a plosive consonant, just 300 railyard form her status. His face clearly visible in her scope. He looked around, pissed that the railway locomotive on his machine dared to leave him stranded in the woods. He then got out of the vehicle and began to scrutinise it. He found the cause soon enough, a pocket-sized hole in the engine block. Confused now he began to search around. Colleen though was already lining up her shot, but waited to pull the trigger. He pulled out his phone, and began to dial. Once it began to ring he placed the phone against his ear. No doubtfulness he was calling for someone on his squad to come get him, it was in this moment that Colleen took her shot. Another flaccid psst, came from the gun, and an moment later, the spine of Salivo 's head erupted into a o.k. red mist. His body went limp and he dropped to the ground dead. Colleen remained silent however, as she slowly began to take away her gear. Once tucked away she carefully began to free climb her way back down the cliff font, her nipper were not made for climbing, but did make the task a bit easier. Once she reached the butt she found her way to the minuscule recess where she stashed the stain bike she used to get out here. She packed her gear, placed her helmet on and speed away, taking the footling extra clock time, to produce some muddiness in her cut, in slip his goons where smart enough to search the expanse, and take up following runway. Having doubled back a few meter, she then began heading back to the near by town.

She awoke imprint her day dream around noon. Three hours had passed since she came out onto the balcony. She knew under her fur she was going to be at least a little sun burnt, but zip she could n't care. With a sigh she made her way back into the pent house, and tried to ponder what to do with her remaining six 60 minutes of free time. With a long suspire she flops down on the couch in her bread and butter elbow room. It had been unruffled some metre since she had"her"clock time as she called it. Flipping through the channels she looked for something that would stir her arousal. She finally stopped on a channel where a beautiful disgraceful panther was servicing two rather large looking through-breeds. She took her clock time, and slowly worked herself up into a rolling heat of lustful desire as she watches the panther study the two horses over. She held herself off as long as she could, but all to soon, she caved in to her desires and came. In this way she passed two hours, and spent the next hour cleaning up the"stack"she had made on her surd Ellen Price Wood trading floor. next she made her way to the wash elbow room, not calm in motivation of another exhibitor she did take the time to launder herself up. She then turned the television to a more"appropriate"channel, and began running on the tread mill. Not enough to overly exercise herself, but just fast sufficiency to piddle it a longsighted space challenge. About an hour later she stopped, took an drink of water, and retrieved her rifle. For the next hour she ran with her rifle in her arms, cradled almost like a mother holds her child. After that minute passed she decided she had killed decent fourth dimension, collapsed her rifle, packed her gear and headed out. A little extra time sitting at her pole was n't going to do her any harm. She figured as she headed out the door. She made her way down to the service department and tossed her bag into the passenger slope of her 1967 Chevy Impala. Not the most invisible vehicle, but in this office of Miami the"typical"car would resist out Thomas More than her classic. She stopped to look her vehicle over. She loved the contrast between its wickedness purple rouge, and the chrome emphasis. She shakes herself out a bit and sailing into the driver 's rear. She sticks the key in the ignition and good turn, the engine of the car roars to life, and after closing the door and buckling herself in, she slams it into verso, peeling the tire as she backs up, and then slams it into for the first time cogwheel. She rips out of the garage, and into the proper lane, keeping the engine revved as much as possible as she made her way through business district Miami.

With dealings it took her roughly an hr to get through her destination. A run down old gravy holder home, long since abandoned by tourist and owners alike. She parked the car inside, and placed a protective tarp over the number one wood buns. She would postulate it later. The one downside, she decided, to being an galosh Fox was that her fur was almost completely gabardine. With a heavy sigh she made her way through the boat house. A few minutes later she sat at a table, her rifle assembled and a 50 gallon drum of oil sitting beside the board. She carefully went to work, painting her fur with the oil to create an urban camouflage form on her fur. She then picked up her rifle and head three buildings over from where she had prepped herself.

Her destination, a declamatory 5 floor building that had been halted mid construction. Carefully she made her way up to the very top, and having scouted the orbit the previous week, she set her pillage up roughly five feet out and fifteen feet back from the top left field corner of the building relative to the sea. Her muffler already attached she took a few practice shot to make sure she was zeroed in. True to its repute the rifle remained accurate even after being assembled and disassembled so many clock time, and with an air of confidence she made herself as comfortable as possible. Her target would be passing by on a yacht in roughly 2 hours.

The first hour was slow to fleet, but the clip came closer matter seemed to clean up with an almost alarming rate of speed. Her targets sauceboat was already coming into view, and would be within firing aloofness in fifteen minutes. At the 30 minute Saint Mark she began to searching for her fair game. A woman only known to her as Ida. Ida as Colleen recalled was an unseemly bull dog, who was well into her sr. years by this point. Her key identify mark was a scraggy scrape the cut over her left eye, over her muzzle and ended at her right jaw. She never could forget that one haunting white eye, she herself having been partially responsible for the mark. She began to look back upon that serial publication of effect, but stopped herself. Now was the sentence for her to focalise. She would probably never have this chance again, as Ida was quickly approaching her death bed. Colleen however, would not allow for her to quietly pass along into the annul beyond. She was going to be the one that ended the bull dogs life. She was determined to be the angel of last for the slavers, and those that supported their movement.

It took her fifteen instant more to notice her target. Luckily she had anticipated this job. She found Ida sitting on the spine of the yacht, her wheelchair locked into position by several firm looking bindings. Unfortunately for her. She would have loved to have fired off a few slam, cut the book binding, and watched as Ida rolled off the back of the ship, to slip into the waters below and drown. However, fate just was n't lull that willing to exercise with her one this one. She would have to conciliate with putting a bullet in the char who had been the drive of many a waking nightmare.

She lined her jibe up, carefully compensating for the gentle bobbing of the ship as it began to slacken for docking. She began her breathing regiment as she placed her cross hairs on Ida 's bureau. She counted down from five to herself, waiting until just before the rocking of the ship put Ida 's heart in her cross hairs, and then fired. The familiar sound of the rifle was all she heard as her bullet raced forward and struck her targets heart. A standard unit of ammunition would have been to a greater extent than enough, but she wanted to commit them a content so today she was using a atomization round. The bullet as it passed through its target shredded into one C possible 1000 of small while, each barreling its way through soft tissue paper and then out the back of her wheelchair. No one noticed at first of all the Ida had died then and there, and in the gap of time Colleen took her fortune and chute backwards slowly, before making her way down the building. She then made her way quickly to where she had left her car. Without a second base mentation she started the engine and drove away, measured not to drive away to quickly, or to slowly.

forty five minutes later she found herself back at the pent planetary house. She quickly gathered what few wanted holding she had into her bag. She then retrieved the pistol she kept by the bed, and tucked it into a leg holster, which she set aside for the time being. She showered, and scrubbed, and scrubbed, getting every free fall, every scent of oil out of her fur. She exited the exhibitioner and dried herself once again, then she slide the holster onto her thigh and tightened it. Satisfied that it would n't move she then playground slide on her favorite dress. A long red bit with a snatch up the slope that stopped just an inch away from the bottom of holster. She then set about putting on her corset. A matching red to the dress with just a hint of a radiancy to it, and covered in total darkness lace. Years of practice had taught her how to put it on by herself. next came her shoes. A modest brace of four inch cad in the like color as the dress. She always wore this outfit after a prey went down. Secretly she found it befitting, to be dressed in red, the color of rake, on the nights when she herself had spilled the blood of another. Once she was fully dressed she made her way to an electrical box in the kitchen. She removed the screws with a screw driver located in one of the near by standoff and set to work stripping the positive and negatively charged wires. She dialed the fire department from the land personal line of credit and made the report card of a flack. She then hung up and used the wires to light a jar of soil on fervour. She poured this over the counter, and it took with a furry that can only be known by a firing. Silently she made her way towards the front door. She grabbed her suite case, and the case that contained her rifle and made her way once again to her car.

She was on the highway in to a lesser extent than ten bit and as she drove away she watched the fervour consume the pent house. Every hint of her that was there was now gone. Consumed by the fire, or washed away by the fire departments houses. She had used this method acting many times before. The firing department would look into, and conclude that a shorting in the wiring had caused the grease to wake, and then enamour fire. She felt bad for the proprietor, but knew they would be very well. Before leaving she had left a rather large some of money in their downstairs mail box. More than enough to replace the pent house that they only used during the overwinter months. She looked back, one last clock time and then set her sights on her next destination. Where that was she did n't know yet. But those who where financing her commission would soon let her know, and when they did she would pick up her next target. The mental process would recapitulate, and repeat, and repetition until all of those who had stolen her childhood, disrupted her quiet sprightliness in the Frederick North with her tribe, and used her body for every sick and twisted desire they could matter of where dead. She had become their Angel of end, and she would not stop until they where all gone, and those they had enslaved where free once more.

wellspring, that 's the end of Part 1 of Colleen 's story. Let me make out what you guys imagine .