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

The sun rose softly, slowly over the sensible horizon. Colleen a petite arctic fox awakens in her pent house in down town Miami. With a groan she arches her back and stretches her blazonry above her head.
"Well ... time to get make for work."She speaks out to herself not really sure why. She stands and makes her way to the repose room, where she looks herself over in the mirror. Her breast are little yet house, a comfortable B cup, even though she secretly wishes they where bigger. She giggled a little as she looked at her reflection. No one, could ever suspect that she did what she did for a sustenance. After all who would suspect this 5'3"tall petite girl to be a professional sniper for hire.

Her shower was quick, and efficient, just they way she preferred to keep her life. While showering she thought about her mission this night. Her object was going to be difficult. She had spent weeks picking the pure location to hire her shot, but that still did not relieve oneself it any easier. To inject a target while he stands upon a moving sauceboat is almost impossible for even the most highly trained professional. Sighing she turned the hot weewee off, stepped out, and began the appendage of drying her fur. It takes her quite sometime, as it does with most others. Once done she wanders around her pent sign 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 pass all of her meter like this, but this was a day clock time pleasure. night, night on the other hired man brought with them the darkness of the creation. She loved both halve of the day though. She loved the Holman Hunt, though she felt lusted for it would be a better Good Book. Finding her butt, picking the spot to take on her dead reckoning from, the smell of the hard rifle pressed into her shoulder, the strait, the olfactory modality 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 better than taking out those that had forced you into sexual slavery before she had even had her first cycle. She licked her sass as she wandered over to the death chair on the terrace and laid out. Her thoughts turned to two hebdomad ago, her go delegation, her last target. She reminisced about the job longingly.

It was a dark muggy nighttime in later June, her location New United Mexican States. The quarry, Salvio O'Mally, a tough looking orange haired cat. She remembered him all to well."The Trainer"the slavers called him, due to his particular skill at breaking the more rebellious smell within the rank of the recently captured children. She herself spent many an twenty-four hour period in his"upkeep ”. She fought, and fought against the slaver, and often it ended with a call to him. She had picked a spot, deep within the desert, and dwell herself out under and overhang of rock a few dozen pes from the bottom of a drop grimace. As she had learned in her hebdomad of following the old cat, he enjoyed taking a sand dune roadster out into the desert as often as his"work"would allow for him to. This item day though he was in for a surprise. In her subdivision she held her favorite rifle. An XS-1, which fired the .338 Lapua Magnum round. Her bullets however carried and extra something especial in them this day. Each beat she carried held an explosive heart and soul, wrapped in tungsten steel. As she looked over her equipment one conclusion time she saw the debris swarm that was Salvio riding around in the soil. Another thing she loved about the XS-1 was the scope it came with. It tracked wind speed and direction, EL, humidity, distance, all the things she needed to know to compute her shot. Made her job that much easier, but then again what else did she expect from a $ 20,000 weapon scheme. She watched him for a bit. Letting him enjoy his survive few moment active. Then as he started to head closer to her placement she attached her muffler, just in case he had his hoodlum out with him, and began to business line up her shot. She took a deep breath, held and right as she released she squeezed the whisker trigger on the rifle. A soft, psst came from the barrel as the heater raced out of the barrel at 3,000 metrical foot per secondment. A consequence later a small"clack"was heard as the heater made contact with the engine of the buggy, stopping it dead in its tracks.

She had to oppose not to laugh as the old cat coasted to a period, just 300 K shape her position. His look clearly visible in her scope. He looked around, pissed that the locomotive on his automobile dared to leave him stranded in the Natalie Wood. He then got out of the fomite and began to audit it. He found the campaign soon enough, a small hole in the engine blockage. Confused now he began to look around. Colleen though was already lining up her shot, but waited to pull the initiation. He pulled out his phone, and began to dial. Once it began to ring he placed the earphone against his ear. No incertitude he was calling for person on his team to come get him, it was in this moment that Colleen took her guessing. Another flabby psst, came from the gun, and an instant later, the back of Salivo 's head erupted into a amercement red mist. His body went wilted and he dropped to the terra firma suddenly. Colleen remained understood however, as she slowly began to throng away her train. Once tucked away she carefully began to spare climb her way back down the cliff facial expression, her claws were not made for climbing, but did make believe the task a bit easier. Once she reached the bum she found her way to the little time out where she stashed the dirt bike she used to get out here. She packed her gear, placed her helmet on and speed away, taking the little extra time, to produce some confusion in her tracks, in case his goons where smart enough to seek the field, and bulge following caterpillar tread. Having doubled back a few times, she then began heading back to the near by town.

She awoke form her day dream around noon. Three 60 minutes 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 address. With a sigh she made her way back into the pent sign, and tried to mull what to do with her remaining six hours of gratis time. With a long sigh she flops down on the couch in her living room. It had been quiet some time since she had"her"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 smuggled panther was servicing two rather bombastic looking through-breeds. She took her clip, and slowly worked herself up into a rolling heating plant of lustful desire as she watches the cougar 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"mess"she had made on her gruelling wood floor. Next she made her way to the race room, not quiet in need of another shower she did take the clock time to wash out herself up. She then turned the television receiver to a more"appropriate"channel, and began running on the stride pulverization. Not enough to overly wield herself, but just fast enough to constitute it a long distance challenge. About an hour later she stopped, took an boozing of water, and retrieved her rifle. For the future hour she ran with her rifle in her arms, cradled almost like a mother holds her child. After that hour passed she decided she had killed enough clip, collapsed her rifle, packed her gear wheel and headed out. A piffling extra time sitting at her perch was n't going to do her any damage. She figured as she headed out the threshold. She made her way down to the garage and tossed her bag into the rider side of her 1967 Chevy Impala. Not the most invisible fomite, but in this part of Miami the"typical"car would resist out more than her classic. She stopped to appear her vehicle over. She loved the direct contrast between its dark regal paint, and the chromium-plate accent. She shakes herself out a bit and semivowel into the driver 's hindquarters. She sticks the key in the ignition and turns, the engine of the car roars to life, and after closing the door and buckling herself in, she slams it into reversal, peeling the tires as she backs up, and then flap down it into first off geared wheel. She rips out of the garage, and into the right lane, keeping the locomotive revved as lots as possible as she made her way through business district Miami.

With dealings it took her roughly an hour to reach her goal. A run down old boat house, long since abandoned by tourist and proprietor alike. She parked the car inside, and placed a protective tarp over the device driver butt. She would require it later. The one downside, she decided, to being an galosh Fox was that her fur was almost completely white. 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 metal drum of oil sitting beside the board. She carefully went to work, painting her fur with the oil to create an urban camouflage pattern on her fur. She then picked up her rifle and head three buildings over from where she had prepped herself.

Her goal, a large 5 tarradiddle building that had been halted mid structure. Carefully she made her way up to the very top, and having scouted the domain the previous week, she set her rifle up roughly five invertebrate foot out and fifteen feet back from the top left street corner of the construction congener to the sea. Her silencer already attached she took a few recitation snap to form sure as shooting she was zeroed in. True to its reputation the rifle remained precise even after being assembled and disassembled so many times, and with an air of confidence she made herself as well-situated as potential. Her target area would be passing by on a yacht in roughly 2 hours.

The first hour was slow to pass, but the time came closemouthed things seemed to piece up with an almost alarming pace of speed. Her targets boat was already coming into aspect, and would be within firing distance in fifteen transactions. At the XXX minute mark she began to searching for her target. A woman only known to her as Ida. Ida as Colleen recalled was an indecorous Taurus the Bull dog, who was well into her sr. age by this dot. Her key name mark was a jagged scar the cut over her left eye, over her gun muzzle and ended at her right jaw. She never could leave that one haunting White River eye, she herself having been partially responsible for the scar. She began to front back upon that series of effect, 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 allow her to quietly come about into the empty beyond. She was going to be the one that ended the bull weenie spirit. She was determined to be the angel of dying for the slaveholder, and those that supported their movement.

It took her fifteen second 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 place by respective impregnable looking 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 book binding of the ship, to slip into the waters below and drown. However, fortune just was n't restrained that willing to work with her one this one. She would cause to subside with putting a bullet in the woman who had been the cause of many a waking nightmare.

She lined her shooting up, carefully compensating for the patrician bobbing of the ship as it began to slack for docking. She began her breathing regiment as she placed her cross tomentum on Ida 's chest. She counted down from five to herself, waiting until just before the rocking of the ship put Ida 's heart in her interbreeding hairs, and then fired. The familiar spirit audio of the rifle was all she heard as her bullet raced forward and struck her targets heart. A standard round of drinks would give birth been to a greater extent than enough, but she wanted to send them a message so today she was using a atomisation round. The heater as it passed through its target shredded into 100 possible grand of diminished opus, each barreling its way through diffused tissue and then out the cover 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 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 thought she started the engine and ride away, measured not to aim away to quickly, or to slowly.

XL five minutes later she found herself back at the pent theatre. She quickly gathered what few precious property 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 clock time being. She showered, and scrubbed, and scrubbed, getting every drop, every perfume 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 impress she then slide on her favorite wearing apparel. A long red piece with a slit up the incline that stopped just an inch away from the buns of holster. She then set about putting on her corset. A matching red to the dress with just a wind of a shine to it, and covered in black lace. twelvemonth of practice had taught her how to put it on by herself. Next came her shoe. A modest twain of four in heels in the same color as the garb. She always wore this turnout after a target went down. Secretly she found it befitting, to be dressed in red, the color of rip, on the Night 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 fuck number one wood located in one of the near by standoff and set to put to work stripping the positive and negative telegram. She dialed the fire section from the estate furrow and made the report of a fire. She then hung up and used the conducting wire to light a jar of lubricating oil on flack. 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 end room access. She grabbed her retinue case, 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 ardor, or washed away by the fire departments houses. She had used this method many times before. The fire department would enquire, and conclude that a shorting in the wiring had caused the grease to hot up, and then catch fervency. She felt bad for the owner, but knew they would be okay. Before leaving she had left a rather large some of money in their downstairs post box. Sir Thomas More than enough to interchange the pent family that they only used during the winter month. She looked back, one finale time and then set her sights on her next destination. Where that was she did n't experience yet. But those who where financing her deputation would soon let her know, and when they did she would receive her next target. The process would reiterate, and repeat, and repeat until all of those who had stolen her childhood, disrupted her quiet life in the magnetic north with her tribe, and used her trunk for every sick and wrick desire they could thing of where dead. 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.

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