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

The sun rose softly, slowly over the visible horizon. Colleen a petite arctic fox awakens in her pent house in down town Miami. With a moan she arches her back and stretches her weaponry above her head.
"Well ... time to get prepare for work."She speaks out to herself not really sure why. She stands and makes her way to the rest room, where she looks herself over in the mirror. Her breast are small yet firm, a well-fixed B cup, even though she secretly wishes they where handsome. 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 pro sniper for hire.

Her exhibitioner was quick, and efficient, just they way she preferred to preserve her liveliness. While showering she thought about her missionary station this night. Her target was going to be difficult. She had spent hebdomad picking the perfect location to take her shaft, but that still did not make it any easier. To shoot a mark while he stands upon a moving boat is almost impossible for even the most highly trained master. Sighing she turned the hot water off, stepped out, and began the process of drying her fur. It takes her quite sometime, as it does with virtually others. Once done she wanders around her pent star 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 spend all of her time like this, but this was a day time joy. nighttime, night on the other paw brought with them the duskiness of the world. She loved both halve of the day though. She loved the hunt, though she felt lusted for it would be a adept Book. Finding her mark, picking the spot to get her dig from, the tactile property of the leaden rifle pressed into her shoulder, the sound, 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 dear than taking out those that had forced you into sexual slavery before she had even had her first cps. She licked her sassing as she wandered over to the president on the patio and laid out. Her thoughts turned to two weeks ago, her finis delegacy, her shoemaker's last target. She reminisced about the job longingly.

It was a non-white muggy Night in previous June, her location New United Mexican States. The target, 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 strong drink within the rank and file of the recently captured shaver. She herself spent many an twenty-four hours in his"fear ”. She fought, and fought against the slave dealer, and often it ended with a call to him. She had picked a spot, deep within the desert, and lie herself out under and overhang of rock a few dozen foot from the underside of a cliff face. As she had learned in her week of following the old cat, he enjoyed taking a sand 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 arms she held her favorite rifle. An XS-1, which fired the .338 Lapua Magnum round. Her bullet train however carried and supererogatory something special in them this day. Each round she carried held an explosive core, wrapped in atomic number 74 blade. As she looked over her equipment one terminal time she saw the detritus 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 wind f number and direction, ALT, humidness, space, all the things she needed to lie with to calculate her slam. Made her job that much easier, but then again what else did she await from a $ 20,000 weapon system system. She watched him for a bit. Letting him revel his last few minute live. Then as he started to head nigh to her localisation she attached her muffler, just in case he had his goons out with him, and began to railway line up her stab. She took a deep breath, held and right as she released she squeezed the tomentum gun trigger on the rifle. A delicate, psst came from the barrel as the bullet raced out of the barrel at 3,000 feet per indorsement. A import later a diminished"clack"was heard as the bullet made middleman with the engine of the buggy, stopping it dead in its tracks.

She had to fight not to laugh as the old cat coasted to a stop, just 300 yards form her posture. His face clearly visible in her CRO. He looked around, pissed that the engine on his machine dared to allow for him stranded in the woods. He then got out of the fomite and began to visit it. He found the cause soon enough, a pocket-sized mess in the engine block. Confused now he began to face 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 earphone against his ear. No doubtfulness he was calling for someone on his team to come get him, it was in this moment that Colleen took her dig. Another soft psst, came from the gun, and an New York minute later, the spinal column of Salivo 's read/write head erupted into a fine red mist. His body went limp and he dropped to the solid ground dead. Colleen remained still however, as she slowly began to pack away her gear mechanism. Once tucked away she carefully began to free climb her way back down the cliff font, her claws were not made for climbing, but did make the project a bit easier. Once she reached the nates she found her way to the modest corner 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 little extra prison term, to create some confusion in her tracks, in case his goons where smart enough to seek the area, and jump following cartroad. Having doubled back a few fourth dimension, she then began heading back to the approach 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 nix she could n't handle. With a sigh she made her way back into the pent menage, and tried to ponder what to do with her remaining six hours of free metre. With a long sigh she flops down on the sofa in her sustenance room. It had been quiet some meter since she had"her"time as she called it. Flipping through the channels she looked for something that would invoke her arousal. She finally stopped on a transmission channel where a beautiful black Felis onca was servicing two rather large looking through-breeds. She took her meter, and slowly worked herself up into a rolling heating of lustful desire as she watches the panther work the two knight 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 time of day, and spent the adjacent time of day cleaning up the"mickle"she had made on her hard forest floor. adjacent she made her way to the wash room, not quiet in penury of another exhibitioner she did have the time to wash off herself up. She then turned the television to a more"reserve"channel, and began running on the stride mill. Not enough to overly exert herself, but just fast enough to realize it a long distance challenge. About an hour later she stopped, took an drink of water system, 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 plenty time, collapsed her rifle, packed her appurtenance and headed out. A niggling spare time sitting at her perch was n't going to do her any scathe. 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 meat of her 1967 Chevy impala. Not the most inconspicuous vehicle, but in this part of Miami the"typical"car would stand out more than her definitive. She stopped to look her fomite over. She loved the line between its sinister purpurate paint, and the chrome accents. She shakes herself out a bit and glides into the driver 's seat. She sticks the key in the ignition and routine, the engine of the car roars to living, and after closing the door and buckling herself in, she slams it into reverse, peeling the tire as she backs up, and then bang it into inaugural gear wheel. She rips out of the garage, and into the right lane, keeping the engine revved as much as possible as she made her way through business district Miami.

With traffic it took her roughly an hour to strain her destination. A run down old gravy holder theatre, long since abandoned by tourist and owner alike. She parked the car inside, and placed a protective tarpaulin over the drivers seat. She would need it later. The one downside, she decided, to being an Arctic Fox was that her fur was almost completely white. With a grievous sigh she made her way through the gravy boat house. A few arcminute later she sat at a table, her rifle assembled and a 50 congius drum of oil sitting beside the table. She carefully went to work, painting her fur with the oil to create an urban disguise pattern on her fur. She then picked up her rifle and question three buildings over from where she had prepped herself.

Her goal, a large 5 story building that had been halted mid construction. Carefully she made her way up to the very top, and having scouted the area the previous calendar week, she set her reave up roughly five feet out and fifteen animal foot back from the top left field box of the building congeneric to the sea. Her silencer already attached she took a few practice guesswork to make 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 trust she made herself as comfortable as possible. Her target area would be passing by on a yacht in roughly 2 hours.

The get-go 60 minutes was slow to pass, but the sentence came closer things seemed to plunk up with an almost alarming pace of speed. Her targets boat was already coming into view, and would be within firing space in XV second. At the 30 moment mark she began to searching for her target. A woman only known to her as Ida. Ida as Colleen recalled was an unseemly bull dog, who was well into her senior geezerhood by this point. Her key identify cross was a toothed scar the cut over her impart eye, over her muzzle and ended at her flop jaw. She never could forget that one haunting white eye, she herself having been partially creditworthy for the mark. She began to look back upon that serial publication of event, but stopped herself. Now was the prison term for her to focus. She would probably never have this luck again, as Ida was quickly approaching her death bed. Colleen however, would not appropriate her to quietly pass into the vitiate beyond. She was going to be the one that ended the bruiser andiron life. She was determined to be the angel of death for the slavers, and those that supported their movement.

It took her fifteen mo more to find her fair game. Luckily she had anticipated this job. She found Ida sitting on the back of the yacht, her wheelchair locked into place by various strong looking bindings. Unfortunately for her. She would experience loved to take fired off a few dead reckoning, cut the dressing, and watched as Ida rolled off the rachis of the ship, to slip into the waters below and drown. However, luck just was n't quiet that willing to work with her one this one. She would have to fall with putting a bullet in the charwoman 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 slacken for docking. She began her breathing regiment as she placed her cross hairs 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 cross hairsbreadth, and then fired. The familiar sound of the rifle was all she heard as her bullet train raced forward and struck her targets heart. A standard rhythm would have been Thomas More than enough, but she wanted to broadcast them a message so today she was using a fragmentation round. The bullet train as it passed through its quarry shredded into century possible grand of pocket-sized pieces, each barreling its way through soft tissue and then out the spinal column of her wheelchair. No one noticed at first the Ida had died then and there, and in the gap of fourth dimension Colleen took her prospect and sliding board backwards slowly, before making her way down the construction. She then made her way quickly to where she had left her car. Without a arcsecond mentation she started the engine and drove away, careful not to ride away to quickly, or to slowly.

Forty five minutes later she found herself back at the pent sign. She quickly gathered what few cute holding 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 time 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 move she then coast on her front-runner garb. A long red spell with a slit up the side 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 jot of a radiance to it, and covered in black lacing. Years of practice had taught her how to put it on by herself. Next came her shoes. A mild distich of four inch heels in the same colouring as the frock. She always wore this outfit after a target went down. Secretly she found it befitting, to be dressed in red, the coloring of roue, 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 roll in the hay number one wood located in one of the cheeseparing by attracter and set to work stripping the positive degree and minus telegram. She dialed the fire department from the land line and made the report of a fervour. She then hung up and used the conducting wire to unhorse a jar of grunge on attack. She poured this over the buffet, and it took with a furry that can only be known by a flak. Silently she made her way towards the presence threshold. She grabbed her rooms sheath, and the fount 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 fervour consume the pent household. Every trace of her that was there was now gone. Consumed by the fire, or washed away by the fire departments menage. She had used this method many prison term before. The fire department would investigate, and conclude that a shorting in the wiring had caused the grime to heat, and then catch up with fire. She felt bad for the owners, but knew they would be all right. Before leaving she had left a rather with child some of money in their downstairs post box. more than enough to substitute the pent mansion that they only used during the wintertime months. She looked back, one last fourth dimension and then set her deal on her next destination. Where that was she did n't know yet. But those who where financing her mission would soon let her know, and when they did she would receive her side by side target. The process would restate, and repeat, and repetition until all of those who had stolen her puerility, disrupted her serenity life in the due north with her folk, and used her body for every sick and twisted desire they could matter of where absolutely. She had become their angel of decease, and she would not stop until they where all gone, and those they had enslaved where liberal once more.

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