>>3849
V/K: Victim
Name: Jamie Duvall
Age: 18
Sex: F
Characteristics: See image. A complete tomboy who was the star pitcher of her highschool baseball team, she's been convicted of murder after beating the alleged rapist of her best friend to death with a baseball bat. Despite her tough exterior, she's a sensitive and emotionally vulnerable young woman.
Scene: Death row

Kayleigh Harris typed away at her keyboard, occasionally grunting in annoyance. Hacking into the Las Angelinas Cartel network was taking way longer than she had estimated.

A knocking on her door startled her, breaking her concentration. "Take out the trash, sweetie" an irritated voice on the other side of the door continued "it's beginning to smell like a dumpster in there".

"Okay mom", the young woman sighed. She got out of her chair and slogged her way through piles of unwashed clothes and fast food wrappers. A few minutes later, she stepped outside lugging a garbage bag overflowing with refuse.

James and Chester waited in a car outside of the Harris household. They were dressed in nondescript business suits, one holding a briefcase. Chester was watching the house, while James read a paper. Chester nudged his partner in the elbow when Kayleigh stepped out. They both watched the girl unwittingly bended over, exposing her firm young chest to the world. "For some pasty nerd shut in, she's pretty fine" James muttered. Chester grunted in affirmation, and press checked his handgun.

Kayleigh dropped the trash off at the garbage pickup point, and walked back inside, unaware of her impending doom. The two assassins waited until she had gone back inside before they donned balaclavas and gloves. They got out of their car and quickly moved up to the front door. Chester took out a multitool and picked the lock, opening up the door. James unholstered his own favored house clearing tool, a compact integrally suppressed Sig MPX carbine.

The first thing the two assassins came across was Kayleigh's mom, who dropped the plate she was washing in shock as two armed strangers walked into the kitchen. She started to raise her hands in the air when James brought up his carbine and clinically put two rounds in between her large breasts.

In the space of a half-second, the two hollowpoint rounds expanded as they punched through her skin and muscle, digging a large wound channel through her central cavity with pieces of bullet shearing off and penetrating multiple organs. She staggered back, one hand clutching at the gunshot wounds, blood soaking into her clean white sweater. Her mouth opened. James shifted his point of aim, and drilled one more bullet into her forehead. The woman immediately dropped to the floor, vacant eyes staring at the tile pattern while blood pooled around her still form.

Chester motioned to James, and they moved in perfect unison. They slowly advanced out of the kitchen, across the dining room, and made their way down into the basement. As they moved further down, they could hear the clickityclack of a keyboard, interspersed with brief bursts of cursing. James slowly gripped the doorhandle with one hand, the other firmly keeping the stock of his carbine pushed against his shoulder, and pushed it open.

The two hitmen found the girl hunched over a keyboard typing furiously. James stepped aside, letting Chester do the target.
Chester always preferred a hands on approach. He holstered his gun and unsheathed a large combat knife. Its serrated edge gleamed under the flourescent light of the basement. He crept up to Kayleigh, and roughly grabbed her by the hair, pulling her out of her seat.

The shocked girl didn't even have time to shout before Chester plunged the knife into her soft throat and dragged it from ear to ear, opening up her entire neck. Blood sprayed all over her PC, and Kayleigh struggled, her legs kicking against the floor. Kayleigh's heart was young and strong, so it pumped blood out through the wound in steady pulses. It took a minute before the blood flow began to slow, and another minute before it stopped.

During that time, Kayleigh slowly faded. Her eyes wandered around before locking on to her killer. Chester stared back, drinking in the fear and agony filling her large doe eyes. He could feel the tremors and quivers running through her muscles as the young girls body shut down. An acrid smell wafted up from the crotch of her sweatpants, as her bladder relaxed. He looked up at James, who nodded.

Chester gripped the handle of the knife, still stuck in her throat, and began to saw away at the rest of the neck. The knife chewed through flesh and cartilage and bone, finally separating Kayleigh's head from her torso. The leaders of Las Angelinas had a hobby of collecting the heads of their victims. Some cute gringo girl would probably add a bit of variety.