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

The sun rose softly, slowly over the horizon. Colleen a lilliputian gelid fox awakens in her pent house in down town Miami. With a moan she arches her back and stretches her arm above her head.
"Well ... time to get ready for work."She speaks out to herself not really sure as shooting why. She stands and makes her way to the residue way, where she looks herself over in the mirror. Her breast are belittled yet business firm, a well-off B cup, even though she secretly wishes they where swelled. She giggled a little as she looked at her rumination. No one, could ever suspect that she did what she did for a living. After all who would suspect this 5'3"tall petite young lady to be a professional sniper for hire.

Her shower was straightaway, and efficient, just they way she preferred to restrain her life. While showering she thought about her mission this Nox. Her object was going to be hard. She had spent calendar week picking the perfect emplacement to take her shot, but that still did not make it any wanton. To shoot a quarry while he stands upon a moving gravy boat is almost impossible for even the most highly trained master. Sighing she turned the hot water system off, stepped out, and began the outgrowth of drying her fur. It takes her quite sometime, as it does with most 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 marvellous on her fur, and she liked the way it made her almost seem to shine. She wished she could spend all of her metre like this, but this was a day time pleasure. Night, night on the other hand brought with them the darkness of the human race. She loved both halve of the day though. She loved the hunt, though she felt lusted for it would be a estimable word. Finding her target, picking the spot to assume her shot from, the feel of the heavy rifle pressed into her shoulder, the sound, the smell 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 intimate slavery before she had even had her showtime cycle. She licked her lips as she wandered over to the chair on the terrace and laid out. Her thoughts turned to two calendar week ago, her lastly commission, her conclusion object. She reminisced about the job longingly.

It was a glowering muggy night in later June, her location New Mexico. The mark, Salvio O'Mally, a hood looking orange haired cat. She remembered him all to well."The trainer"the slave dealer called him, due to his particular science at breaking the more rebellious feeling within the ranks of the recently captured children. She herself spent many an days in his"charge ”. She fought, and fought against the slavers, and often it ended with a vociferation to him. She had picked a spot, deep within the desert, and lain herself out under and overhang of John Rock a few 12 groundwork from the bottom of a cliff nerve. As she had learned in her calendar week of following the old cat, he enjoyed taking a dune buggy out into the desert as often as his"study"would allow him to. This particular day though he was in for a surprise. In her blazon she held her preferred rifle. An XS-1, which fired the .338 Lapua Magnum round. Her bullets however carried and extra something particular in them this day. Each beat she carried held an explosive magnetic core, wrapped in W brand. As she looked over her equipment one last clock time she saw the dust cloud that was Salvio riding around in the dirt. Another thing she loved about the XS-1 was the cathode-ray oscilloscope it came with. It tracked wind f number and direction, altitude, humidness, distance, all the things she needed to jazz to calculate her shot. Made her job that much well-to-do, but then again what else did she expect from a $ 20,000 arm system. She watched him for a bit. Letting him enjoy his last few here and now alive. Then as he started to manoeuver unaired to her positioning she attached her silencer, just in case he had his goons out with him, and began to pipeline up her barb. She took a deep breath, held and justly as she released she squeezed the hair trigger on the rifle. A balmy, psst came from the drum as the hummer raced out of the barrel at 3,000 feet per second. A consequence later a small"clack"was heard as the heater made physical contact 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 take form her position. His face clearly visible in her orbit. He looked around, pissed that the engine on his motorcar dared to leave him stranded in the Natalie Wood. He then got out of the vehicle and began to inspect it. He found the cause soon enough, a small pickle in the locomotive 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 question he was calling for person on his team to do get him, it was in this moment that Colleen took her shot. Another soft psst, came from the gun, and an New York minute later, the back of Salivo 's head erupted into a ticket red mist. His body went hobble and he dropped to the ground dead. Colleen remained mute however, as she slowly began to pack away her cogwheel. Once tucked away she carefully began to free climb her way back down the cliff face, her nipper were not made for climbing, but did earn the task a bit easier. Once she reached the bottom she found her way to the small recess where she stashed the dirt bike she used to get out here. She packed her gear, placed her helmet on and hasten away, taking the short extra meter, to create some confusion in her tracks, in case his goons where smart enough to look for the area, and start following tracks. Having doubled back a few times, she then began heading back to the near by town.

She awoke form her day ambition around noon. Three time of day had passed since she came out onto the balcony. She knew under her fur she was going to be at to the lowest degree a little sun burnt, but nothing she could n't handle. With a sigh she made her way back into the pent house, and tried to ruminate what to do with her remaining six hours of free time. With a farsighted sigh she flops down on the lounge in her living room. It had been quiet some sentence since she had"her"time as she called it. Flipping through the line she looked for something that would stir her foreplay. She finally stopped on a duct where a beautiful nigrify puma was servicing two rather large looking through-breeds. She took her clock time, and slowly worked herself up into a rolling heat energy 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 time of day, and spent the adjacent hour cleaning up the"mess"she had made on her hard Natalie Wood story. Next she made her way to the backwash elbow room, not quiet in need of another shower she did take on the clip to wash herself up. She then turned the telly to a more"reserve"communication channel, and began running on the tread John Stuart Mill. Not enough to overly exert herself, but just fast enough to take it a longsighted space challenge. About an hour later she stopped, took an swallow of water, and retrieved her rifle. For the following hour she ran with her rifle in her blazonry, cradled almost like a mother holds her child. After that hour passed she decided she had killed enough clock time, collapsed her rifle, packed her gear and headed out. A short surplus time 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 inconspicuous vehicle, but in this part of Miami the"typical"car would stand out more than her classic. She stopped to look her fomite over. She loved the contrast between its dark purple pigment, and the chrome stress. She shakes herself out a bit and glides into the driver 's tail end. She sticks the key in the ignition and turns, the engine of the car roars to life, and after closing the room access and buckling herself in, she slams it into turnaround, peeling the tire as she backs up, and then flap down it into get-go gear. She rips out of the service department, and into the proper lane, keeping the locomotive engine revved as much as potential as she made her way through business district Miami.

With dealings it took her roughly an hr to reach her destination. A run down old boat theater, long since abandoned by tourist and possessor alike. She parked the car inside, and placed a protective tarp over the driver seat. She would need it later. The one downside, she decided, to being an Arctic Zone Fox was that her fur was almost completely White. With a punishing sigh she made her way through the boat house. A few minutes later she sat at a mesa, her rifle assembled and a 50 gallon tympan of oil sitting beside the table. She carefully went to work, painting her fur with the oil to produce an urban camouflage pattern on her fur. She then picked up her rifle and head three edifice over from where she had prepped herself.

Her goal, a large 5 story construction that had been halted mid construction. Carefully she made her way up to the very top, and having scouted the area the previous hebdomad, she set her rifle up roughly five feet out and xv groundwork back from the top left field turning point of the construction relative to the sea. Her silencer already attached she took a few practice guesswork to ca-ca sure she was zeroed in. True to its reputation the rifle remained accurate even after being assembled and disassembled so many multiplication, and with an air of self-assurance she made herself as comfortable as possible. Her fair game would be passing by on a yacht in roughly 2 hours.

The for the first time time of day was dim to pass, but the time came closer thing seemed to clean up with an almost alarming rate of velocity. Her targets boat was already coming into view, and would be within firing space in 15 instant. At the thirty mo marker 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 aged years by this point. Her key key mark was a jagged scar the cut over her pull up stakes eye, over her gag and ended at her in good order jaw. She never could forget that one haunting snowy eye, she herself having been partially responsible for for the scar. She began to look back upon that series of issue, but stopped herself. Now was the clock time for her to focalize. She would probably never have this probability again, as Ida was quickly approaching her death bed. Colleen however, would not allow her to quietly pass into the void beyond. She was going to be the one that ended the pig dogs 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 target. Luckily she had anticipated this problem. She found Ida sitting on the spinal column of the yacht, her wheelchair locked into place by several hard looking bindings. Unfortunately for her. She would have loved to feature fired off a few stab, cut the bindings, and watched as Ida rolled off the back of the ship, to fall away into the pee below and drown. However, destiny just was n't quiet that willing to work with her one this one. She would have to settle with putting a bullet in the woman who had been the campaign 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 Cross hairs on Ida 's breast. She counted down from five to herself, waiting until just before the rocking of the ship put Ida 's heart in her cross pilus, and then fired. The familiar speech sound of the rifle was all she heard as her bullet raced forward and struck her targets heart. A standard stave would have been more than enough, but she wanted to send them a substance so today she was using a fragmentation cycle. The bullet as it passed through its objective shredded into hundreds possible thousand of pocket-size pieces, each barreling its way through flabby tissue and then out the vertebral column of her wheelchair. No one noticed at first the Ida had died then and there, and in the gap of meter 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 bit thought she started the engine and push away, thrifty not to drive away to quickly, or to slowly.

Forty five mo later she found herself back at the pent theater. 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 drop, every fragrance of oil out of her fur. She exited the rain shower and dried herself once again, then she slide the holster onto her second joint and tightened it. Satisfied that it would n't act she then slideway on her preferred dress. A long red objet d'art 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 apparel with just a lead of a shine to it, and covered in fateful lace. year of practice had taught her how to put it on by herself. next came her horseshoe. A mild pair of four column inch hound 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 ancestry, 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 gaoler with a screw driver located in one of the near by draws and set to work stripping the positivistic and electronegative wires. She dialed the fervidness department from the land furrow and made the report of a fire. She then hung up and used the wires to illuminate a jar of grease on fire. She poured this over the counter, and it took with a furry that can only be known by a ardor. Silently she made her way towards the front door. She grabbed her rooms case, and the sheath 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 minutes and as she drove away she watched the flak consume the pent planetary house. Every trace 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 many times before. The firing department would investigate, and conclude that a shorting in the wiring had caused the grease to heat, and then grab fervency. She felt bad for the owners, but knew they would be finely. Before leaving she had left a rather large some of money in their downstairs mail box. more than enough to supersede the pent home that they only used during the winter calendar month. She looked back, one last time and then set her sights on her side by side destination. Where that was she did n't know yet. But those who where financing her missionary post would soon let her know, and when they did she would receive her next target. The unconscious process would ingeminate, and repeat, and repeat until all of those who had stolen her childhood, disrupted her quiet life history in the Frederick North with her tribe, and used her body for every sick and rick desire they could thing of where utterly. She had become their backer of death, and she would not break until they where all gone, and those they had enslaved where barren once more.

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