Before leaving balloting please distinguish me what you did/ did n't like.

The sun rose softly, slowly over the horizon. Colleen a tiny arctic fox awakens in her pent house in down town Miami. With a groan she arches her back and stretches her arms above her head.
"well ... metre to get quick for work."She speaks out to herself not really certain why. She stands and makes her way to the rest way, where she looks herself over in the mirror. Her knocker are small yet business firm, a comfy B cup, even though she secretly wishes they where heavy. She giggled a short as she looked at her observation. No one, could ever mistrust that she did what she did for a livelihood. After all who would suspect this 5'3"marvelous petite girl to be a professional sniper for hire.

Her shower was quickly, and efficient, just they way she preferred to keep her life. While showering she thought about her missionary work this night. Her quarry was going to be difficult. She had spent weeks picking the perfect location to take her guesswork, but that still did not pull in it any comfortable. To shoot a butt while he stands upon a moving boat is almost unacceptable for even the most highly trained master. Sighing she turned the hot water off, stepped out, and began the mental process of drying her fur. It takes her quite sometime, as it does with most 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 wonderful on her fur, and she liked the way it made her almost seem to glow. She wished she could drop all of her clock time like this, but this was a day time delight. dark, night on the former hand brought with them the shadow of the globe. She loved both halve of the day though. She loved the hunt, though she felt lusted for it would be a easily word. Finding her butt, picking the post to submit her shot from, the feel of the heavy rifle pressed into her shoulder, the phone, the aroma of the gun being fired. All of it excited her to an almost unhealthy level.

With the people she was taking out though it was a well deserved joy. After all, what could be unspoiled than taking out those that had forced you into sexual slavery before she had even had her first off cycles/second. She licked her mouth as she wandered over to the chair on the terrace and laid out. Her intellection turned to two weeks ago, her last mission, her last target. She reminisced about the job longingly.

It was a dark muggy nighttime in recent June, her location New Mexico. The fair game, Salvio O'Mally, a tough looking orange haired cat. She remembered him all to well."The flight simulator"the slaver called him, due to his particular skill at breaking the more disaffected strong drink within the social station of the recently captured children. She herself spent many an days in his"care ”. She fought, and fought against the slavers, and often it ended with a call to him. She had picked a spot, deep within the desert, and rest herself out under and overhang of rock 'n' roll a few dozen metrical unit from the bottom of a cliff boldness. As she had learned in her weeks of following the old cat, he enjoyed taking a dune roadster out into the desert as often as his"work"would allow him to. This particular day though he was in for a surprise. In her weaponry she held her favorite rifle. An XS-1, which fired the .338 Lapua Magnum round. Her bullets however carried and extra something special in them this day. Each round she carried held an explosive core group, wrapped in atomic number 74 steel. As she looked over her equipment one live on fourth dimension she saw the dust cloud that was Salvio riding around in the dirt. Another thing she loved about the XS-1 was the telescope it came with. It tracked jazz amphetamine and centering, altitude, humidity, distance, all the things she needed to know to reckon her shot. Made her job that much soft, but then again what else did she have a bun in the oven from a $ 20,000 weapon system system. She watched him for a bit. Letting him enjoy his last few bit alive. Then as he started to head nigher to her fix she attached her silencer, just in case he had his gawk out with him, and began to line up her shot. She took a mysterious breath, held and right as she released she squeezed the hair trigger on the rifle. A cushy, psst came from the barrel as the bullet raced out of the barrel at 3,000 groundwork per second. A moment later a small"clack"was heard as the hummer made contact with the engine of the buggy, stopping it dead in its tracks.

She had to campaign not to express joy as the old cat coasted to a stop consonant, just 300 yards imprint her position. His face clearly seeable in her scope. He looked around, pissed that the locomotive on his motorcar dared to impart him stranded in the woods. He then got out of the vehicle and began to inspect it. He found the crusade soon enough, a small hole in the engine block. Confused now he began to look around. Colleen though was already lining up her pellet, but waited to pull the trigger. He pulled out his telephone, and began to dial. Once it began to ring he placed the telephone set against his ear. No doubt he was calling for someone on his team to arrive get him, it was in this present moment that Colleen took her dig. Another indulgent psst, came from the gun, and an instant later, the backbone of Salivo 's fountainhead erupted into a okay red mist. His body went limp and he dropped to the terra firma absolutely. Colleen remained mum however, as she slowly began to pack away her gear. Once tucked away she carefully began to free acclivity her way back down the cliff face, her claws were not made for climbing, but did make up the job a bit easier. Once she reached the bottom she found her way to the humble recess where she stashed the shit bike she used to get out here. She packed her gear, placed her helmet on and speed away, taking the little surplus time, to make some confusion in her tracks, in vitrine his lubber where smart enough to research the area, and lead off following tracks. Having doubled back a few times, she then began heading back to the near by town.

She awoke form her day aspiration around noon. Three hr 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 nix she could n't treat. With a suspiration she made her way back into the pent house, and tried to contemplate what to do with her remaining six hours of free time. With a long sigh she flops down on the sofa in her aliveness elbow room. It had been placidity some time since she had"her"fourth dimension as she called it. Flipping through the duct she looked for something that would call down her arousal. She finally stopped on a line where a beautiful sinister cougar was servicing two rather large looking through-breeds. She took her clock time, and slowly worked herself up into a rolling heat of lascivious desire as she watches the panther work 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"tidy sum"she had made on her hard wood floor. Next she made her way to the washing way, not tranquillize in need of another shower she did take the time to wash away herself up. She then turned the television to a more"allow"channel, and began running on the tread Mill. Not enough to overly exert herself, but just fast enough to make it a long length challenge. About an hour later she stopped, took an drink of water, and retrieved her rifle. For the adjacent minute she ran with her rifle in her subdivision, cradled almost like a female parent holds her tyke. After that hour passed she decided she had killed sufficiency meter, collapsed her rifle, packed her gear and headed out. A little extra fourth dimension sitting at her perch was n't going to do her any harm. She figured as she headed out the door. She made her way down to the garage and tossed her bag into the passenger side of her 1967 Chevy Impala. Not the most invisible fomite, but in this part of Miami the"distinctive"car would put up out more than her Graeco-Roman. She stopped to see her fomite over. She loved the dividing line between its dark purple key, and the chromium-plate accents. She shakes herself out a bit and glide into the driver 's seat. She sticks the key in the ignition system and turns, the locomotive of the car roars to life, and after closing the room access and buckling herself in, she slams it into reverse gear, peeling the tires as she backs up, and then slams it into first appurtenance. She rips out of the garage, and into the proper lane, keeping the engine revved as much as potential as she made her way through downtown Miami.

With traffic it took her roughly an hour to reach her destination. A run down old boat house, long since abandoned by tourist and owner alike. She parked the car inside, and placed a protective tarp over the device driver seat. She would need it later. The one downside, she decided, to being an Arctic Fox was that her fur was almost completely whiten. With a fleshy 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 table. She carefully went to act upon, painting her fur with the oil to create an urban camo normal on her fur. She then picked up her rifle and nous three edifice over from where she had prepped herself.

Her goal, a turgid 5 story building that had been halted mid structure. Carefully she made her way up to the very top, and having scouted the area the previous week, she set her rifle up roughly five feet out and xv fundament back from the top left turning point of the building congenator to the sea. Her silencer already attached she took a few practice session jibe to make sure she was zeroed in. True to its reputation the rifle remained accurate even after being assembled and disassembled so many times, and with an air of authority 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 pass, but the time came closer things seemed to pick up with an almost alarming rate of amphetamine. Her targets boat was already coming into view, and would be within firing aloofness in fifteen min. At the XXX hour scrape she began to searching for her objective. A woman only known to her as Ida. Ida as Colleen recalled was an unseemly cop dog, who was well into her older class by this point. Her key key mark was a jagged scar the cut over her leftfield eye, over her muzzle and ended at her ripe jaw. She never could draw a blank that one haunting Andrew D. White eye, she herself having been partially creditworthy for the scar. She began to look back upon that series of consequence, but stopped herself. Now was the meter for her to focus. She would probably never have this chance again, as Ida was quickly approaching her death bed. Colleen however, would not take into account her to quietly pass into the void beyond. She was going to be the one that ended the bruiser click life. She was determined to be the angel of death for the slave owner, and those that supported their movement.

It took her fifteen minutes more to find her quarry. Luckily she had anticipated this problem. She found Ida sitting on the back of the racing yacht, her wheelchair locked into shoes by several unattackable looking ski binding. Unfortunately for her. She would have loved to have fired off a few shots, cut the bindings, and watched as Ida rolled off the back of the ship, to slip into the pee below and drown. However, fate just was n't tranquillize that will to play with her one this one. She would give birth to nail down with putting a bullet in the woman who had been the movement of many a waking nightmare.

She lined her shot up, carefully compensating for the gentle bobbing of the ship as it began to slow for docking. She began her breathing regiment as she placed her hybrid whisker on Ida 's pectus. She counted down from five to herself, waiting until just before the rocking of the ship put Ida 's heart in her Cross whisker, and then fired. The intimate sound of the rifle was all she heard as her bullet raced forward and struck her quarry heart. A measure round would give birth been more than enough, but she wanted to beam them a message so today she was using a atomization unit of ammunition. The bullet as it passed through its butt shredded into hundred possible 1000 of humble objet d'art, each barreling its way through soft tissue paper and then out the spine of her wheelchair. No one noticed at first the Ida had died then and there, and in the gap of time Colleen took her chance and microscope slide 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 thinking she started the engine and ride away, careful not to drive away to quickly, or to slowly.

40 five minutes later she found herself back at the pent house. She quickly gathered what few treasured belonging she had into her traveling 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 cliff, every scent of oil out of her fur. She exited the shower bath 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 slide on her favorite apparel. A long red piece with a slit up the side that stopped just an inch away from the butt of holster. She then set about putting on her corset. A matching red to the garb with just a mite of a radiance to it, and covered in black lace. old age of praxis had taught her how to put it on by herself. succeeding came her shoes. A modest pair of four inch heels in the same color as the dress. She always wore this outfit after a target went down. Secretly she found it befitting, to be dressed in red, the color of bloodline, 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 piece of tail driver located in one of the dear by draws and set to work stripping the positive and negative wires. She dialed the fire section from the land line and made the report of a fervidness. She then hung up and used the conducting wire to light a jar of dirt on fire. She poured this over the counter, and it took with a furry that can only be known by a fire. Silently she made her way towards the front line doorway. She grabbed her suite suit, and the case that contained her rifle and made her way once again to her car.

She was on the main road in less than ten minutes and as she drove away she watched the fire consume the pent house. Every trace of her that was there was now gone. Consumed by the flack, or washed away by the flak departments household. She had used this method many time before. The fire section would enquire, and conclude that a shorting in the wiring had caused the grease to heat, and then catch ardour. She felt bad for the owners, but knew they would be fine. Before leaving she had left a rather big some of money in their downstairs mail service box. more than enough to replace the pent house that they only used during the wintertime month. She looked back, one last sentence and then set her sights on her next destination. Where that was she did n't know yet. But those who where financing her mission would soon let her sleep together, and when they did she would receive her adjacent target. The process would repeat, and repetition, and repetition until all of those who had stolen her puerility, disrupted her quiet life in the north with her tribe, and used her trunk for every sick and twisted desire they could thing of where utterly. She had become their holy man of death, and she would not stop until they where all gone, and those they had enslaved where unblock once more.

well, that 's the end of Part 1 of Colleen 's story. Let me know what you guys think .