Name: Sherry
Age: 21
Description: See image. A devoted single mom to a 5 year old daughter. Works at an upscale strip joint to provide for her child, having put her promising athletic career to rest after an accidental teen pregnancy. Despite the loss of her dream, she loves her daughter and would do anything for her.
Type of Death: Murdered.
Scenario: Stalked by a serial killer.






>>5067
The man watched from his car as the pretty young asian closed up the coffee shop. The old anger came bubbling up again, but he kept a lid on it, letting it simmer below the surface. His hand gripped the revolver stashed in his hoodie pocket, running his thumb over the worn logo emblazoned on the plastic grip. He ruminated over the events that lead to this, the silence of the office as his manager sacked him in front of everyone, the hysterical screaming of his wife as he tried to explain over the phone. It had all come to a head when he tried to get a coffee at the shop and the dumb gook bitch had messed up his order. How could anyone fuck up a simple coffee, two sugars, one cream?

The sound of a door opening then closing interrupted his reverie. The girl, now in her casual day clothes walked across the street, then cut into an alley way. He got out of his car and followed. The girl was engrossed in her phone, her face lit up by the pale glow of the screen. She wasn't bad looking, her purple hair cut short, soft lips curled into a slight smile, a perky set of tits that pushed against her shirt. He pulled the gun out and cocked the hammer. The metallic click alerted the girl, who spun around suddenly.

It was one of those things that would stick with him until his dying days. Her droopy eyes wide, her mouth forming a surprised O. The man fired, and a single hole punctured the center of her chest, right in between her tits. She fell back, dead before she even hit the ground. The bullet, a .357 JHP had carved through her heart and spine, causing massive internal shock and flicking her switch off immediately. Blood, dark and sticky slowly expanded, soaking into her shirt and causing the fabric to hug against her breasts tightly. A wet spot stained the crotch of her pants as her bladder relaxed.

He pointed the gun down, and emptied the rest of his bullets into her torso. Her corpse jerked and twitched with each bullet impact. A feeling of emptiness came over him as he stared into her empty eyes. There wasn't anything left to be angry about.

The man flicked the revolver cylinder out and dumped the empties into a plastic baggy. He threw it into a dumpster behind the coffee shop before driving away, his rage satiated.

23 year old Mikaru Kote stared blankly up at the night sky, never to draw another breath again.