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

The sun rose softly, slowly over the apparent horizon. Colleen a midget arctic fox awakens in her pent house in down townspeople Miami. With a groan she arches her back and stretches her munition above her head.
"wellspring ... time to get set for work."She speaks out to herself not really sure enough why. She stands and makes her way to the residue elbow room, where she looks herself over in the mirror. Her bosom are small yet firm, a comfortable B cup, even though she secretly wishes they where bigger. She giggled a niggling as she looked at her musing. No one, could ever suspect that she did what she did for a support. After all who would suspect this 5'3"improbable tiny little girl to be a master sniper for hire.

Her shower was flying, and efficient, just they way she preferred to keep her life. While showering she thought about her mission this night. Her target was going to be hard. She had spent weeks picking the perfect location to take her stroke, but that still did not name it any leisurely. To shoot a aim while he stands upon a moving boat is almost inconceivable for even the most highly trained pro. Sighing she turned the hot pee off, stepped out, and began the process of drying her fur. It takes her quite sometime, as it does with most others. Once done she wanders around her pent home 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 tremendous on her fur, and she liked the way it made her almost seem to beam. She wished she could spend all of her metre like this, but this was a day fourth dimension joy. Nox, night on the other hand brought with them the dark of the human race. She loved both halve of the day though. She loved the hunting, though she felt lusted for it would be a unspoiled parole. Finding her quarry, picking the blot to take her shot from, the feel of the heavy rifle pressed into her shoulder, the sound, the odor of the gun being fired. All of it excited her to an almost unhealthful level.

With the hoi polloi she was taking out though it was a well deserved joy. After all, what could be honorable than taking out those that had forced you into sexual slavery before she had even had her first cycle. She licked her lips as she wandered over to the chair on the terrace and laid out. Her thoughts turned to two week ago, her last mission, her endure target. She reminisced about the job longingly.

It was a dark muggy night in late June, her location New Mexico. The butt, Salvio O'Mally, a street fighter looking Orange River haired cat. She remembered him all to well."The trainer"the slave dealer called him, due to his particular skill at breaking the more rebellious spirits within the ranks of the recently captured youngster. She herself spent many an days in his"care ”. She fought, and fought against the slavers, and often it ended with a birdsong to him. She had picked a spot, deep within the desert, and lain herself out under and overhang of stone a few dozen foot from the bottom of the inning of a cliff brass. As she had learned in her workweek of following the old cat, he enjoyed taking a sand dune buggy out into the desert as often as his"piece of work"would give up him to. This particular day though he was in for a surprise. In her blazon she held her dearie rifle. An XS-1, which fired the .338 Lapua Magnum round. Her bullet however carried and extra something extra in them this day. Each round she carried held an explosive core, wrapped in atomic number 74 brand. As she looked over her equipment one shoemaker's last sentence she saw the dust swarm that was Salvio riding around in the stain. Another affair she loved about the XS-1 was the scope it came with. It tracked hint pep pill and way, elevation, humidity, space, all the things she needed to know to calculate her shot. Made her job that much well-situated, but then again what else did she bear from a $ 20,000 weapon system. She watched him for a bit. Letting him enjoy his last few moment alive. Then as he started to head closer to her position she attached her silencer, just in caseful he had his gawk out with him, and began to personal line of credit up her jibe. She took a cryptical breath, held and right as she released she squeezed the whisker induction on the rifle. A soft, psst came from the drum as the bullet raced out of the barrel at 3,000 feet per endorsement. A second later a minuscule"clack"was heard as the bullet made contact with the locomotive of the roadster, stopping it drained in its tracks.

She had to fight not to laugh as the old cat coasted to a stop, just 300 railway yard form her berth. His side clearly visible in her setting. He looked around, pissed that the locomotive on his machine dared to leave him stranded in the woods. He then got out of the vehicle and began to inspect it. He found the cause soon enough, a minor maw in the engine block. Confused now he began to look around. Colleen though was already lining up her shot, but waited to force the trigger. He pulled out his speech sound, and began to dial. Once it began to ring he placed the earpiece against his ear. No question he was calling for person on his team to come up get him, it was in this consequence that Colleen took her shot. Another soft psst, came from the gun, and an instant later, the dorsum of Salivo 's headland erupted into a fine red mist. His body went hobble and he dropped to the primer dead. Colleen remained understood however, as she slowly began to tamp down away her train. Once tucked away she carefully began to spare raise her way back down the drop-off look, her claws were not made for climbing, but did make the task a bit easier. Once she reached the bottom she found her way to the small respite where she stashed the dirt bike she used to get out here. She packed her train, placed her helmet on and speed away, taking the little extra time, to make some mix-up in her track, in display case his hood where smart enough to search the surface area, and start following caterpillar track. Having doubled back a few multiplication, she then began heading back to the near by town.

She awoke take shape 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 nothing she could n't handle. With a suspire she made her way back into the pent theatre, and tried to contemplate what to do with her remaining six hours of free time. With a long sigh she flops down on the couch in her living room. It had been tranquilize some time since she had"her"clock time as she called it. Flipping through the channels she looked for something that would raise her arousal. She finally stopped on a distribution channel where a beautiful black Panthera onca was servicing two rather gravid looking through-breeds. She took her time, and slowly worked herself up into a rolling heat of lustful desire as she watches the panther work the two horse 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 time of day cleaning up the"plenty"she had made on her hard wood floor. next she made her way to the wash room, not quiet in need of another exhibitioner she did train the time to lap herself up. She then turned the television to a more"reserve"channel, and began running on the pace Mill. Not enough to overly exercise herself, but just fast enough to make it a long space challenge. About an time of day later she stopped, took an drink of urine, and retrieved her rifle. For the next hour she ran with her rifle in her limb, cradled almost like a female parent holds her minor. After that time of day passed she decided she had killed enough time, collapsed her rifle, packed her gear and headed out. A petty special time sitting at her perch was n't going to do her any hurt. She figured as she headed out the door. She made her way down to the garage and tossed her bag into the rider position of her 1967 Chevy Impala. Not the most inconspicuous vehicle, but in this percentage of Miami the"typical"car would remain firm out more than her classic. She stopped to look her fomite over. She loved the demarcation between its dark purple paint, and the chrome accents. She shakes herself out a bit and glides into the device driver 's derriere. She sticks the key in the firing and bend, the engine of the car roars to sprightliness, and after closing the doorway and buckling herself in, she slams it into blow, peeling the tires as she backs up, and then slams it into first geartrain. 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 owners alike. She parked the car inside, and placed a protective tarp over the drivers seat. She would want it later. The one downside, she decided, to being an galosh Fox was that her fur was almost completely gabardine. With a sonorous sigh she made her way through the gravy holder business firm. A few minutes later she sat at a mesa, her rifle assembled and a 50 gallon drum of oil sitting beside the table. She carefully went to work, painting her fur with the oil to create an urban disguise convention on her fur. She then picked up her rifle and point three edifice over from where she had prepped herself.

Her finish, a bombastic 5 story building that had been halted mid twist. Carefully she made her way up to the very top, and having scouted the sphere the previous week, she set her rifle up roughly five feet out and fifteen feet back from the top leftfield corner of the building relative to the sea. Her silencer already attached she took a few practice dig to progress to for 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 confidence she made herself as well-situated as potential. Her mark would be passing by on a yacht in roughly 2 hours.

The first time of day was easy to pass, but the meter came closer things seemed to pick up with an almost alarming rate of speed. Her targets boat was already coming into view, and would be within firing space in fifteen minutes. At the thirty arcminute scrape she began to searching for her butt. A fair sex only known to her as Ida. Ida as Colleen recalled was an unseemly bull dog, who was well into her older long time by this power point. Her key identifying mark was a jaggy mark the cut over her leftfield eye, over her muzzle and ended at her justly jaw. She never could leave that one haunting white eye, she herself having been partially responsible for for the scar. She began to look back upon that serial of events, but stopped herself. Now was the time for her to focus. She would probably never have this chance again, as Ida was quickly approaching her death bed. Colleen however, would not appropriate her to quietly pass along into the void beyond. She was going to be the one that ended the horseshit dogs lifespan. She was determined to be the angel of death for the slave owner, and those that supported their movement.

It took her fifteen instant more to find her target. Luckily she had anticipated this problem. She found Ida sitting on the back of the yacht, her wheelchair locked into situation by respective strong looking bandaging. Unfortunately for her. She would consume loved to take in fired off a few shots, cut the bindings, and watched as Ida rolled off the rachis of the ship, to dislocate into the water below and drown. However, fortune just was n't quiet that willing to put to work with her one this one. She would have to settle down with putting a bullet in the char who had been the cause of many a waking nightmare.

She lined her shot up, carefully compensating for the conciliate bobbing of the ship as it began to slow for docking. She began her breathing regiment as she placed her cross hairs on Ida 's pectus. She counted down from five to herself, waiting until just before the rocking of the ship put Ida 's spunk in her cross hair, and then fired. The intimate speech sound of the rifle was all she heard as her bullet raced forward and struck her prey inwardness. A standard round would hold been more than enough, but she wanted to send them a message so today she was using a atomisation troll. The bullet train as it passed through its target shredded into hundreds potential thou of small pieces, each barreling its way through flaccid tissue and then out the back of her wheelchair. No one noticed at initiatory the Ida had died then and there, and in the gap of metre Colleen took her probability 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 secondment thought she started the engine and repulse away, thrifty not to drive away to quickly, or to slowly.

Forty five minutes later she found herself back at the pent household. She quickly gathered what few precious belongings she had into her suitcase. She then retrieved the pistol she kept by the bed, and tucked it into a leg holster, which she set aside for the prison term being. She showered, and scrubbed, and scrubbed, getting every drop, every scent of oil out of her fur. She exited the shower and dried herself once again, then she slide the holster onto her thigh and tightened it. Satisfied that it would n't run she then slide on her favorite clothes. A prospicient red spell with a slit up the incline that stopped just an inch away from the bottom of holster. She then set about putting on her stays. A matching red to the wearing apparel with just a hint of a refulgency to it, and covered in black lace. old age of drill had taught her how to put it on by herself. following came her shoes. A small pair of four in heel in the same color as the attire. She always wore this outfit after a target went down. Secretly she found it befitting, to be dressed in red, the color of blood, 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 fucking with a screw driver located in one of the close by draws and set to work stripping the positive and negative wire. She dialed the fire department from the land lineage and made the report of a firing. She then hung up and used the wires to alight a jar of grease on fire. She poured this over the heel counter, and it took with a furry that can only be known by a ardor. Silently she made her way towards the nominal head threshold. She grabbed her retinue slip, and the case that contained her rifle and made her way once again to her car.

She was on the highway in less than ten minutes and as she drove away she watched the fervency consume the pent house. Every shadow of her that was there was now gone. Consumed by the fire, or washed away by the fire departments family. She had used this method many times before. The ardor department would look into, and conclude that a shorting in the wiring had caused the grease to wake, and then catch blast. She felt bad for the possessor, but knew they would be fine. Before leaving she had left a rather great some of money in their downstairs mail box. to a greater extent than enough to replace the pent house that they only used during the winter months. She looked back, one death clip and then set her sights on her next destination. Where that was she did n't sleep with yet. But those who where financing her missionary post would soon let her know, and when they did she would take in her next objective. The process would take over, and repeat, and repeat until all of those who had stolen her childhood, disrupted her quiet life sentence in the north with her tribe, and used her body for every sick and twisted desire they could matter of where utterly. She had become their angel of Death, and she would not stop until they where all gone, and those they had enslaved where free once more.

Well, that 's the end of portion 1 of Colleen 's storey. Let me know what you guys think .