Cat 1313 belongs to me.....

All else is the creation of Joss Whedon...

--------------------------------------------

One final kill....I could smell him from here, a roguish charm to the scent of war and blood, mixed with the gentle odors of hay and horses. He must have been a rancher or farmer before signing up to die. Independents were nothing more than cattle for the slaughter and what made it worse was the Alliance had let them stir things up.

It was nature that drove them, and it was the governing forces that allowed them to continue. Raise enough hell and you were bound to get noticed. Allow them to beat you a bit and you seem to be weak or at least not a powerful as your enemy seems to think you are. Be the body that can be infiltrated and people look the other way at what you are doing behind their backs. The Alliance wasn't stupid and as far as predators were concerned, they were quite smart, maybe too smart.

My legs were cramping, the human side of me getting impatient as I tell her once to shut up. I have heard enough from her as I've slaughtered the leaders of this pathetic resistance, crushing them as they remained strong, not once calling out in pain. Most I have been merciful to, but a few I had to do what needed done to get information. If only they had answered my questions...

I cast a look down the high powered scope on the sniper rifle in my hand training it on the man who I've been sent to kill. He will be the seventh notch on the weapon's belt, something I've heard was a custom way before this world was colonized, before any of the worlds were colonized besides the one they called Earth.

Oh, I knew the place. Education on such was standard for those like me. It was drilled in us, the planet that was before the humans went wild. Problems was I didn't care about some place I would never go to or be welcome on. My life was to hunt, kill, or be killed. Nothing more and nothing less...a smart predator to fix a whole helluva lot of mistakes. One I was about to rectify right