The leader of the Archanius Alliance was asked to observe a test with a new catylast like material discovered on a small moon. It was recently discovered and would prove to be very profitable for the aliens involved if they could convice him to back them up with the man power and the equimpment if they could convince him to do so, so he was heading to the planet with the usually amount of guards for such a person, but the moon was hardly secure and if they every wanted to destroy this leader then the time was now which is why they sent one of there most ruthless people to deal with him.

The Directorate had caught wind of the presidential visit late - too late to enact a proper infiltration of the planet. All signs pointed to the moon being a trap. So when they sent Bacchanalia in, the singular objective was the sabotage and destruction of as much of the mineral as possible.

But she wasn't going to pass up an opportunity like this. So she's waited. She's spent days burrowing through the tight tunnels that run under the crust of the moon. She's mapped the surface of the moon and she's mapped the corridors which run underneath. She's laid her traps.

And now she's flat against a slate ridge. It's dark, and her body just seems to melt into the rock - camouflage catsuit clinging tight to her taut body, hair tied back in a ponytail. Her pack sits at her side, flat stomach curved to match the bumps of the rock surface. It's been hours since she's settled here, poised directly above a mine shaft, and the only movement has been the occasional shift of the sniper scope as her eyes follow the leader's convoy across the surface.

The convoy moved ahead on schedule. About two hours later you saw the man obvisouly protected by the various other aliens as the aliens of the minning operation showed him around, obviously trying to impress them with how far they had already gotten and how if he helped it would mean great riches for him. A look at the alien leader showed that he had a very human like appearence yet what little intel they had on him said otherwise.

A knob is twisted, and she moves the scope to focus on the leader. Decoy, probably. The scope zooms in on his face, roams down his body, and back up. She flicks a lever, and then pulls the trigger - once, twice, five times. There's no crack, no recoil, no bullet for that matter - just a low snap as the scope records the images, processing them digitally. The information will store, and if she doesn't mess with them manually in the next twenty-four hours, they'll upload directly to the ADD database.... not that they'll be worth much without any intel to go along with them.

Low, still, she slithers along the surface of the ridge like a snake, readjusting herself, ascending to a higher peak to snap photos of his entourage, then scoping back for a view of the full caravan.

As she watches them the leader stops and look directly at her as if he saw her. One of the guards asks him a question in his native laugauge. "No, I see nothing." He tells him as he turns around but he winked at her as they travel back along.

Black-dyed lips twist in a frown as the leader's expression changes through the view-finder. Her tongue absently strokes around the remote detonator against the roof of her mouth. The president's face is square in the scope. The knob is flicked back into place, followed by a hard pull of the trigger. There's a crack like heavy thunder, and the bullet tears out of the muzzle. A second and a half, readjust. There's another crack, this time aimed at his torso, left side. A second and a half, and a third. right side, torso. Her eyes stay lit in the scope for a second, surveying the carnage, measuring the response.

(Don't waste anytime I see)

His body jerks back with every shoot to his body as he falls back onto the ground as his guards move in to assist him, blocking what happened to him from her line of sight as she has appeared to hit her mark.

There's a twinge of a smile on her voluptuous lips, but it's not the pleasure of the kill. It's the pleasure of things to come. There's another twist of the knob, in the opposite direction this time, a pull of the trigger, and what rockets forward is heavier, larger, more destructive. The center of the convoy bursts into white light and white heat as the thermo-nuclear shell ruptures. These are an appetizer. She's nearly sure of that, but it doesn't make it less appealing. A purr escapes from her lips, a feverish heat rising from between her legs, tingling through her body. And as she slings the rifle back over her shoulder, as she slithers, serpentine, back into the mine shaft, a hand drifts between her legs, stroking at the warm latex between her thighs. For a few moments, her vision swims, the passion of it glossing over her vision like a desert heat wave, and then she blinks, her eyes refocusing. The telescopic lenses in her eyes begin to refocus, to zoom back in on the remnants of the convoy. Only the top half of her head remains visible over the horizon of the surface.

Totally destruction and devastation is there as she seems to have been successful, very successful in destroying her target. So much for him being an immortal. Then she feels two hand on her legs as she is suddenly and quickly dragged down into the shaft and thrown down onto the ground as she was dragged about a mile underground in an instant. Some light shines on her and the man who dragged her down... The Presdint was the one and he only had one bullet would in his shoulder. "I'm lucky that first one was a through and through, if a nuclear bullet blew up on me directly I wouldn't have been able to pay you back for your assualt." He tells her with a smirk.