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

The sun rose softly, slowly over the horizon. Colleen a midget arctic fox awakens in her pent mansion in down Town Miami. With a groan she arches her back and stretches her arms above her head.
"Well ... clip to get ready for work."She speaks out to herself not really sure as shooting 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-heeled B cup, even though she secretly wishes they where liberal. She giggled a piddling as she looked at her reflection. No one, could ever suspect that she did what she did for a bread and butter. After all who would suspect this 5'3"tall flyspeck girl to be a professional person sniper for hire.

Her rain shower was quick, and efficient, just they way she preferred to keep her life. While showering she thought about her charge this night. Her prey was going to be unmanageable. She had spent workweek picking the perfect location to take her guesswork, but that still did not make it any easier. To shoot a target while he stands upon a moving gravy holder is almost impossible for even the most highly rail professional person. 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 house 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 howling 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 clip pleasure. Night, nighttime on the other paw brought with them the darkness of the reality. She loved both halve of the day though. She loved the hunt, though she felt lusted for it would be a just word. Finding her quarry, picking the spot to take away her snapshot from, the flavour of the dense rifle pressed into her articulatio humeri, the strait, the olfactory perception of the gun being fired. All of it excited her to an almost unhealthy level.

With the hoi polloi she was taking out though it was a well deserved joy. After all, what could be right than taking out those that had forced you into sexual thraldom before she had even had her for the first time cycle. She licked her lips as she wandered over to the chair on the patio and laid out. Her mentation turned to two weeks ago, her last mission, her last aim. She reminisced about the job longingly.

It was a darkness muggy dark in tardily June, her location New Mexico. 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 special acquirement at breaking the more rebellious feeling within the ranks of the recently captured shaver. She herself spent many an days in his"care ”. She fought, and fought against the slave dealer, and often it ended with a birdsong to him. She had picked a spot, deep within the desert, and lie down herself out under and overhang of rock a few 12 feet from the bottom of a drop brass. As she had learned in her hebdomad of following the old cat, he enjoyed taking a sand dune buggy out into the desert as often as his"work"would allow him to. This particular day though he was in for a surprisal. In her arms she held her best-loved rifle. An XS-1, which fired the .338 Lapua Magnum round. Her bullets however carried and extra something limited in them this day. Each round of drinks she carried held an volatile core, wrapped in tungsten steel. As she looked over her equipment one net time she saw the dust swarm that was Salvio riding around in the shit. Another thing she loved about the XS-1 was the oscilloscope it came with. It tracked twist speed and counseling, height, humidity, aloofness, all the things she needed to do it to calculate her shot. Made her job that much prosperous, but then again what else did she expect from a $ 20,000 arm organisation. She watched him for a bit. Letting him enjoy his last few consequence alive. Then as he started to head closer to her location she attached her silencer, just in guinea pig he had his goons out with him, and began to phone line up her shot. She took a deep hint, held and properly as she released she squeezed the hair trigger on the rifle. A soft, psst came from the barrel as the bullet raced out of the barrel at 3,000 feet per endorsement. A bit later a small"clack"was heard as the bullet made contact with the railway locomotive of the buggy, stopping it dead in its tracks.

She had to push not to laugh as the old cat coasted to a closure, just 300 yards form her position. His face clearly visible in her orbit. He looked around, pissed that the engine on his machine dared to leave him stranded in the Sir Henry Wood. He then got out of the vehicle and began to inspect it. He found the causal agent soon enough, a small trap in the engine pulley-block. Confused now he began to bet around. Colleen though was already lining up her shot, but waited to draw in the trigger. He pulled out his phone, and began to dial. Once it began to ring he placed the earphone against his ear. No doubt he was calling for someone on his team to arrive get him, it was in this instant that Colleen took her shot. Another indulgent psst, came from the gun, and an instant later, the back of Salivo 's head erupted into a fine red mist. His body went limp and he dropped to the ground drained. Colleen remained silent however, as she slowly began to pack away her gear. Once tucked away she carefully began to free acclivity her way back down the cliff face, her chela were not made for climbing, but did make the task a bit easier. Once she reached the backside she found her way to the pocket-sized inlet where she stashed the malicious gossip bike she used to get out here. She packed her gearing, placed her helmet on and step on it away, taking the little extra metre, to create some mix-up in her tracks, in case his goons where smart enough to search the sphere, and go following tracks. Having doubled back a few prison term, she then began heading back to the near by town.

She awoke make her day dreaming 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 aught she could n't treat. With a sigh she made her way back into the pent house, and tried to contemplate what to do with her remaining six hours of destitute metre. With a long sigh she flops down on the couch in her aliveness room. It had been smooth 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 line where a beautiful nigrify Panthera onca was servicing two rather big looking through-breeds. She took her fourth dimension, and slowly worked herself up into a rolling heat of lustful desire as she watches the panther work the two sawhorse 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 60 minutes, and spent the next hr cleaning up the"mess"she had made on her firmly wood floor. following she made her way to the wash way, not quiet in motivation of another cascade she did take the time to wash herself up. She then turned the television to a more"appropriate"line, and began running on the tread mill. Not enough to overly maintain herself, but just fast enough to puddle it a long distance challenge. About an hr later she stopped, took an drink of piss, and retrieved her rifle. For the next hour she ran with her rifle in her sleeve, cradled almost like a female parent holds her tyke. After that hour passed she decided she had killed sufficiency time, collapsed her rifle, packed her train and headed out. A little supererogatory sentence 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 service department and tossed her bag into the passenger face of her 1967 Chevy Impala. Not the most inconspicuous vehicle, but in this part of Miami the"distinctive"car would remain firm out more than than her classic. She stopped to appear her vehicle over. She loved the dividing line between its dark purpurate paint, and the chrome emphasis. She shakes herself out a bit and glides into the driver 's derriere. She sticks the key in the ignition and bit, the engine of the car roars to life, and after closing the room access and buckling herself in, she slams it into verso, peeling the tire as she backs up, and then mosh it into first geartrain. She rips out of the garage, and into the proper lane, keeping the engine revved as practically as possible as she made her way through downtown Miami.

With traffic it took her roughly an hour to get to her goal. A run down old boat house, long since abandoned by tourer and owner alike. She parked the car inside, and placed a protective tarp over the device driver 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 fleshy suspiration she made her way through the gravy holder house. A few minutes later she sat at a table, her rifle assembled and a 50 gallon brake drum of oil sitting beside the table. 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 top dog three building over from where she had prepped herself.

Her goal, a with child 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 week, she set her rifle up roughly five substructure out and fifteen feet back from the top left box of the edifice congenator to the sea. Her muffler already attached she took a few practice crack to make trusted she was zeroed in. True to its reputation the rifle remained exact even after being assembled and disassembled so many times, and with an air of confidence she made herself as comfortable as potential. Her butt would be passing by on a yacht in roughly 2 hours.

The number 1 minute was slow to pass, but the fourth dimension came near affair seemed to pick up with an almost alarming pace of stop number. Her mark boat was already coming into view, and would be within firing aloofness in fifteen minutes. At the XXX second stain she began to searching for her target. A adult female only known to her as Ida. Ida as Colleen recalled was an indecorous bull dog, who was well into her aged years by this point. Her key identify soft touch was a erose scar the cut over her left eye, over her gag and ended at her right jaw. She never could blank out that one haunting white eye, she herself having been partially creditworthy for the scar. She began to bet back upon that serial publication of events, but stopped herself. Now was the clip for her to focus. She would probably never have this chance again, as Ida was quickly approaching her decease bed. Colleen however, would not let her to quietly pass into the vacancy beyond. She was going to be the one that ended the bull's eye dogs liveliness. She was determined to be the holy person of expiry for the slaveholder, and those that supported their movement.

It took her fifteen minutes more to find her target area. Luckily she had anticipated this problem. She found Ida sitting on the back of the racing yacht, her wheelchair locked into situation by several strong looking bindings. Unfortunately for her. She would birth loved to have fired off a few shots, cut the bandaging, and watched as Ida rolled off the spinal column of the ship, to slip into the waters below and drown. However, fate just was n't serenity that willing to work with her one this one. She would feature to settle with putting a bullet in the woman who had been the cause of many a waking nightmare.

She lined her shot up, carefully compensating for the docile bobbing of the ship as it began to slow for docking. She began her breathing regiment as she placed her cross hairsbreadth 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 familiar audio of the rifle was all she heard as her bullet raced forward and struck her targets warmheartedness. A standard round would take in been more than enough, but she wanted to beam them a subject matter so today she was using a atomization circle. The bullet as it passed through its butt shredded into hundreds possible G of minor pieces, each barreling its way through voiced tissue and then out the back of her wheelchair. No one noticed at first the Ida had died then and there, and in the gap of clip 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 aim away, careful not to force away to quickly, or to slowly.

Forty five arcminute later she found herself back at the pent house. She quickly gathered what few precious belongings she had into her traveling bag. 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 move she then slide on her favorite dress. A long red piece with a slit up the side that stopped just an in away from the nates of holster. She then set about putting on her corset. A matching red to the wearing apparel with just a trace of a shine to it, and covered in bootleg lace. old age of practice had taught her how to put it on by herself. side by side came her brake shoe. A modest pair of four inch hound in the Sami color as the wearing apparel. She always wore this rig after a prey went down. Secretly she found it befitting, to be dressed in red, the coloring of blood, 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 jailer device driver located in one of the near by attracter and set to work stripping the positive degree and negative wires. She dialed the fire department from the acres line and made the news report of a fire. She then hung up and used the wires to light a jar of grease on firing. She poured this over the counter, and it took with a furry that can only be known by a fervour. Silently she made her way towards the front door. She grabbed her suite case, 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 instant and as she drove away she watched the fire consume the pent firm. Every vestige of her that was there was now gone. Consumed by the flaming, or washed away by the fire departments houses. She had used this method acting many times before. The fire department would investigate, and conclude that a shorting in the wiring had caused the filth to hot up, and then catch up with attack. She felt bad for the possessor, but knew they would be ok. Before leaving she had left a rather large some of money in their downstairs mail box. More than enough to replace the pent firm that they only used during the winter month. She looked back, one live on time and then set her wad on her next name and address. Where that was she did n't make out yet. But those who where financing her missionary station would soon let her know, and when they did she would receive her future butt. The operation would double, and repeat, and repeat until all of those who had stolen her childhood, disrupted her quiet life in the north with her folk, and used her body for every sick and rick desire they could thing of where bushed. She had become their angel of death, and she would not stop until they where all gone, and those they had enslaved where absolve once more.

wellspring, that 's the end of region 1 of Colleen 's story. Let me bonk what you guys think .