Name: Jessica Atwell
Age: 26
Sex: F
Description: (See image) An ambitious tech executive at a Silicon Valley "unicorn" startup
Crime: Ordering the killing of a business rival
Scenario: The government has decided to televise Ms. Atwell's death live on national TV.





>>5810
Emmett sat on a chair, pistol on his lap and waited. It was cool in the basement of his shop, a welcome place to chill after a long summer day selling wares. He stared at the young catgirl tied to a pipe, and thought hard about what to do.

Mixed blood individuals like her were not afforded the same rights as normal humans. Technically, as long as there were witnesses, he could dispense citizens justice to animal-human hybrids like the young lass in front of him. Some wealthy individuals even paid top dollar for their pelts, heads, and certain organs, for their own use.

She stirred, and slowly opened her eyes.
Looking around, the cat-girl appraised her surroundings. Emmett had to admit, the girl was attractive. Soft, supple skin, glossy orange hair, pert breasts, and a round, cute face. By his estimation, she was about 17 or 18.

"Awake, I see."

She mumbled something past her gag. It was probably a curseword. Emmett gripped the pistol, shoved it into his inner waistband, leaned in closer and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him. He stared into her defiant eyes. They were beautiful, a deep emerald green.

"Stealing, attempted assault with a deadly weapon, these are crimes that can cop you a death sentence in this land", he whispered in her ear. Her look of defiance wavered.

He pulled down her gag for a moment. She spat in his face. Emmett wiped the spittle off his cheek as she unleashed a torrent of swear words that would've made a sailor blush.

"What's your name, lass?"

She paused.

"Kiara"

He nodded, then pulled the gag back over her mouth.

"Since you're young, and attractive, I'm going to go easy on you." For a brief moment, a look of hope crossed her face. He grabbed the gun from his waist and pressed it against her neck. Her eyes widened in fear.

Emmett watched her throat as the muzzle pressed deep into her skin. He could see her carotid pulse as blood pumped into her head.

"This little beauty is a Ruger MKII, a gun built for plinking cans and killing varmints." Emmett dragged the gun down, trailing the muzzle across her collarbones, chest, and nipples. She closed her eyes tight, a tight gasp emerging past the gag.

"I'm thinkin' putting a shot through your eye, straight into your frontal lobe. Or maybe two shots into the back of your neck, cut through your brainstem?"

There was a faint dripping sound, and an acrid scent wafted up. Emmett looked down, and saw a puddle of piss pool around the cat-girls ass. The poor thing was terrified.

"Alright, enough messing about."

Emmett stood up, pulled back the slide, and let go, chambering a round. The cat-girl shrunk back, her eyes wide as dinner plates. Emmett took aim, and fired.

PAP!

The .22 calibre bullet zipped through Kiara's left eyeball, piercing through her orbital and tumbling into her basal ganglia. Immediately, her one remaining eye rolled up as her body stiffened.

He fired again, and again.

PAP! PAP!

He was much less precise this time, and the bullets punched through her cheek and forehead, Kiara jerking with each impact. The cat-girl went limp, blood coursing from the three neat holes in her head.

Emmett placed the gun on the ground and walked over to the slumped over corpse. Taking a knife, he cut the ropes binding Kiara's hands to the water pipe, and the cat-girl flopped lifelessly to the floor.

Kiara was still warm, and soft. Cat-girls had a different scent to them compared to normal human girls. It was something musky, and raw.

Cat-girls were lighter than humans, and he found it surprisingly easy to carry her body to the walk in freezer. There she would stay, until he found a suitable buyer.