There, lounging on a worn out sofa that she had salvaged, was someone she dreaded to see. The best damn hitman of the mob, known for his cruelty to his targets. She also knew of certain rumors of lovely women he was contracted to hit just...vanishing. No trace of them, address, no last known location.
Nothing.
Now it seems she was to be his next hit. She looked the fox dead in the eye, her face still in an angry scowl.
"Miles." She hissed, making the fox's face break out into a smug grin.
"Hello, Miss Buns. The years have been most kind to you." The fox said, angling his pistol at her.
===========
Here's part two of Buns in trouble.
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Published:
5 years, 6 months ago
20 Sep 2019 11:24 CEST
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