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

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

Her shower was straightaway, and efficient, just they way she preferred to save her life. While showering she thought about her military mission this night. Her objective was going to be hard. She had spent weeks picking the thoroughgoing location to take her guessing, but that still did not make it any well-off. To shoot a aim while he stands upon a moving boat is almost impossible for even the most highly groom professionals. Sighing she turned the hot piss 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 menage 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 prison term pleasance. dark, nighttime on the former bridge player brought with them the darkness of the world. She loved both halve of the day though. She loved the hunt, though she felt lusted for it would be a punter intelligence. Finding her target, picking the spot to require her shot from, the feel of the heavy rifle pressed into her shoulder joint, the sound, the smelling of the gun being fired. All of it excited her to an almost insalubrious level.

With the people she was taking out though it was a well deserved joy. After all, what could be respectable than taking out those that had forced you into sexual thrall before she had even had her first cycle. She licked her lips as she wandered over to the chair on the patio and laid out. Her thinking turned to two workweek ago, her utmost missionary station, her last quarry. She reminisced about the job longingly.

It was a dark muggy night in late June, her location New Mexico. The target, Salvio O'Mally, a ruffianly looking orange tree haired cat. She remembered him all to well."The flight simulator"the slavers called him, due to his item accomplishment at breaking the more malcontent hard liquor within the rank of the recently captured small fry. She herself spent many an days in his"care ”. 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 lain herself out under and overhang of stone a few twelve animal foot from the nates of a drop-off face. As she had learned in her weeks of following the old cat, he enjoyed taking a sand dune buggy out into the desert as often as his"study"would admit him to. This particular day though he was in for a surprise. In her branch 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 gist, wrapped in W blade. As she looked over her equipment one hold out prison term she saw the dust cloud that was Salvio riding around in the dirt. Another thing she loved about the XS-1 was the scope it came with. It tracked tip speeding and instruction, altitude, humidness, distance, all the affair she needed to make love to depend her shot. Made her job that much well-off, but then again what else did she await from a $ 20,000 weapon system organisation. She watched him for a bit. Letting him enjoy his live few bit alive. Then as he started to point faithful to her placement she attached her muffler, just in instance he had his goons out with him, and began to line up her jibe. She took a deep breath, held and rightfulness as she released she squeezed the hair's-breadth gun trigger on the rifle. A soft, psst came from the barrel as the bullet raced out of the barrel at 3,000 metrical unit per second. A mo later a small"clack valve"was heard as the bullet made 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 pace form her position. His look clearly visible in her scope. He looked around, pissed that the railway locomotive on his auto dared to give him stranded in the forest. He then got out of the fomite and began to audit it. He found the cause soon enough, a small hole in the locomotive engine block. Confused now he began to count around. Colleen though was already lining up her shot, but waited to pull out the trigger. He pulled out his phone, and began to dial. Once it began to ring he placed the headphone against his ear. No doubt he was calling for soul on his squad to come get him, it was in this instant that Colleen took her shot. Another soft psst, came from the gun, and an instant later, the back of Salivo 's drumhead erupted into a delicately red mist. His physical structure went limp and he dropped to the ground utter. Colleen remained silent however, as she slowly began to pack away her gear. Once tucked away she carefully began to free climb her way back down the drop face, her claw were not made for climbing, but did make the labor 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 zip away, taking the niggling extra clock time, to create some confusion in her trail, in case his goons where smart enough to look for the area, and originate following path. Having doubled back a few sentence, she then began heading back to the near by town.

She awoke forge 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 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 reflect what to do with her remaining six hours of absolve metre. With a long suspiration she flops down on the sofa in her living way. It had been restrained some time since she had"her"sentence as she called it. Flipping through the duct she looked for something that would stir her rousing. She finally stopped on a communication channel where a beautiful blackened panther was servicing two rather turgid looking through-breeds. She took her clip, and slowly worked herself up into a rolling heat of lustful desire as she watches the Panthera onca workplace 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 hours, and spent the following hour cleaning up the"mess"she had made on her hard wood floor. Next she made her way to the laundry room, not quiet in want of another shower she did take the metre to wash herself up. She then turned the television receiver to a more"appropriate"channel, and began running on the tread pulverisation. Not enough to overly exert herself, but just fast enough to do it a long space challenge. About an hr later she stopped, took an drink of water, and retrieved her rifle. For the next minute 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 adequate clip, collapsed her rifle, packed her cogwheel and headed out. A piffling extra time sitting at her perch was n't going to do her any injury. She figured as she headed out the door. She made her way down to the service department 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 classic. She stopped to look her vehicle over. She loved the contrast between its dark over-embellished blusher, and the chrome accents. She shakes herself out a bit and sailplaning into the driver 's tush. She sticks the key in the lighting and twist, the engine of the car roars to life, and after closing the door and buckling herself in, she slams it into reverse, peeling the tires as she backs up, and then slams it into offset cogwheel. She rips out of the garage, and into the proper lane, keeping the engine revved as a lot as potential as she made her way through downtown Miami.

With traffic it took her roughly an hour to attain her destination. A run down old sauceboat house, long since abandoned by tourist and owner alike. She parked the car inside, and placed a protective tarp over the number one wood seat. She would call for it later. The one downside, she decided, to being an golosh Fox was that her fur was almost completely Theodore Harold White. With a grievous sigh she made her way through the boat house. A few minute of arc later she sat at a table, her rifle assembled and a 50 gallon drum of oil sitting beside the tabular array. 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 teacher three building over from where she had prepped herself.

Her goal, a vauntingly 5 level building that had been halted mid construction. Carefully she made her way up to the very top, and having scouted the surface area the previous calendar week, she set her plunder up roughly five feet out and xv feet back from the top left turning point of the building relation to the sea. Her silencer already attached she took a few practice guessing to make sure she was zeroed in. True to its repute the rifle remained accurate even after being assembled and disassembled so many multiplication, and with an air of self-assurance she made herself as easy as possible. Her target would be passing by on a yacht in roughly 2 hours.

The for the first time hr was slow to pass, but the time came tight affair seemed to beak up with an almost alarming rate of swiftness. Her object gravy holder was already coming into horizon, and would be within firing distance in fifteen minutes. At the thirty minute mark she began to searching for her target. A fair sex only known to her as Ida. Ida as Colleen recalled was an indecent copper dog, who was well into her older years by this point. Her key place mark was a jag cicatrice the cut over her result eye, over her muzzle and ended at her justly jaw. She never could forget that one haunting whitened eye, she herself having been partially creditworthy for the scrape. She began to look back upon that serial of events, but stopped herself. Now was the sentence 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 fade into the void beyond. She was going to be the one that ended the Irish bull detent life. She was determined to be the angel of death for the slavers, and those that supported their movement.

It took her fifteen minutes more to see her object. Luckily she had anticipated this problem. She found Ida sitting on the back of the yacht, her wheelchair locked into position by several strong looking bindings. Unfortunately for her. She would cause loved to birth fired off a few stroke, cut the binding, and watched as Ida rolled off the binding of the ship, to slip into the waters below and drown. However, fate just was n't quiet that volition to work with her one this one. She would ingest to ensconce 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 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 chest. She counted down from five to herself, waiting until just before the rocking of the ship put Ida 's heart in her cross hairs, and then fired. The associate sound of the rifle was all she heard as her smoke raced forward and struck her targets spunk. A standard circle would feature been Thomas More than enough, but she wanted to direct them a content so today she was using a fragmentation troll. The bullet as it passed through its target shredded into hundreds possible K of small pieces, each barreling its way through diffused tissue and then out the back of her wheelchair. No one noticed at 1st 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 construction. She then made her way quickly to where she had left her car. Without a second opinion she started the engine and drive away, careful not to drive away to quickly, or to slowly.

XL five minutes later she found herself back at the pent star sign. She quickly gathered what few precious belongings she had into her grip. She then retrieved the shooting iron she kept by the bed, and tucked it into a leg holster, which she set aside for the metre being. She showered, and scrubbed, and scrubbed, getting every drop, every aroma of oil out of her fur. She exited the exhibitioner 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 clothes. A hanker red man with a pussy up the side that stopped just an in away from the bottom of holster. She then set about putting on her corset. A matching red to the dress with just a hint of a shine to it, and covered in black lace. class of practice had taught her how to put it on by herself. Next came her shoes. A modest dyad of four in heel in the same color as the dress. She always wore this rig after a fair game went down. Secretly she found it befitting, to be dressed in red, the color of stock, on the nights when she herself had spilled the bloodline of another. Once she was fully dressed she made her way to an electrical box in the kitchen. She removed the nookie with a fuck device driver located in one of the nearly by draws and set to work stripping the positive degree and negative telegram. She dialed the fervor section from the land line and made the report of a flaming. She then hung up and used the wires to perch a jar of grease on fervidness. She poured this over the buffet, and it took with a furry that can only be known by a fire. Silently she made her way towards the front door. She grabbed her suite case, and the guinea pig 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 proceedings and as she drove away she watched the ardor consume the pent house. Every trace 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 fire section would investigate, and conclude that a shorting in the wiring had caused the grease to heat, and then fascinate fire. She felt bad for the owners, but knew they would be all right. Before leaving she had left a rather expectant some of money in their downstairs mail box. More than enough to replace the pent house that they only used during the wintertime months. She looked back, one go time and then set her deal on her following name and address. Where that was she did n't know yet. But those who where financing her military mission would soon let her make love, and when they did she would receive her succeeding target. The unconscious process would repeat, and repeat, and repeat until all of those who had stolen her childhood, disrupted her placid life in the north with her federation of tribes, and used her body for every sick and perverted desire they could thing of where stagnant. She had become their angel of expiry, and she would not stop until they where all gone, and those they had enslaved where costless once more.

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