Sandra  aka Lena  vs Bifi Anorak
by behappy9999@yahoo.com
 


This story is a continuation of the "Lena - a new generation of killer"
series!

My name is Lena. I am now completing training to become a funeral specialist.
People always die - and always buried. No matter how much the technology
advances - this profession is crisis-proof! And by the way, there are also
overlaps with my hobby / sideline in the family company. You already know -
contract killing! Here, too, I'm still in training, so to speak (haha).

It was an interesting - but also a stressful week. Specialist course in the
inter-company training center in Flensburg (Schleswig Holstein). It was nice
to meet trainees from all parts of the country again and to exchange ideas
with them intensively - from a purely technical point of view, of course.

When I get home on Friday afternoon, I'm already looking forward to two days
off - before the seriousness of life (training) begins again. But puff cake! I
immediately notice the tense mood when I meet my father sitting in the
kitchen. In front of him is a bottle of rum, a bottle of cola and there is a
large bubble envelope on the kitchen table! My father is sitting at the table
with a pale expression on his face and I can tell that he was crying.

"Dad, what's going on? Has something happened? "I want to know and also sit
down at the kitchen table. He looks at me, tries to smile and tears run down
his face again. "Here - read the letter through in peace and then we'll talk
about it," he says in a sad voice - something I last heard about my dead one
Mother spoke.

The letter (general):

Hello Mister X - I'm sure you are surprised that I get in touch with you in
this way. And you will surely be even more surprised that I know your address
- thus also your true identity! But don't worry - I'll take this information
with me to my grave. Which brings me straight to the essentials. If you get
this envelope with these lines - then I've been dead for three months. I hired
a lawyer to send you this envelope three months after my death.

In the last few years you have already carried out several assignments to my
complete satisfaction. Now that I'm no longer alive, I have one last
assignment for her. In the envelope labeled "Code" there is a bank
verification code and password. If you confirm this, 100,000 euros will be
transferred to an account of your choice. Yes - I know this is above your
usual rate. You can collect the fee and do not provide any service. I am dead
and I cannot control it. But I always remember you as a reliable partner in
the years we have worked together. As I said - it's your choice. I wrote down
the data for this order in the "data" envelope.

No matter how your decision turns out - I thank you and wish you and your
daughter (yes - I know about her) all the best for the future of your life!

Mister Z.

I looked at my father in astonishment. "Mister Z?" "One of my regular
customers - always paid more than agreed. And I had the impression that the
"orders" always concerned people who deserved it, "replied my father. Then he
gave me another letter "read it carefully - then we have to have a serious
conversation". I started reading:

The letter (order data):

I can't say that I lived an honorable life. Looking back, I am ashamed. I have
brought suffering to many people, have lied, cheated and have not shrunk from
worse. People have also died as a result of my actions. People who didn't
deserve it. And no - I don't mean my orders! I made a lot of wrong decisions
in my youth, trusted the wrong people, and went down the wrong path for a long
period of time.

When I wanted to change my life, "my business partners" showed their true
colors. They had my wife and daughter killed. Allegedly my family was killed
in a car accident - but it was made clear to me that such a "car accident"
could happen to me too. In fact, I also had a car accident - which I survived
by chance. I knew that I had to make myself invisible. I had already made my
arrangements for this moment. From now on I disappeared without a trace. Money
(dirty money from other people's suffering) was not a problem. To calm my
conscience, I put the majority of this money into two foundations that support
charitable causes. I did not expect forgiveness from this - I know I will burn
in hell!

However, I did not want to let the death of my family go unavenged. I hired a
hit man - Lady Y - to eliminate my deadly enemy "Bifi Anorak". But Bifi Anorak
is like a cat - he definitely has more than one life and has survived multiple
attacks on his life. Unfortunately, Lady Y was unsuccessful - he escaped her
attack, brutally tortured her to death and sent me a video of her execution.
I'm really not built close to the water - but after watching the video I felt
extremely sick. Bifi Anorak is not a human being in my eyes. He swore to find
me and treat me just like Lady Y. I know him - that wasn't an empty promise.
And I was attached to my life. But now I'm dead - so his threat no longer has
any effect on me.

There is a flaw in Bifi Anorak's life - his extreme fetish. He loves nylon
anoraks with a hood. To call him a passionate collector would be an
understatement. He is fanatical in that regard - and this fanaticism has
already claimed more than a human life. The key, the code and the address of
an air-conditioned storage room are in the "Key" envelope. I managed to
acquire a copy of an extremely rare nylon anorak with a hood with a lot of
effort and high costs. This model is also known as the Ferrari of nylon
anoraks. Perhaps it will help them - if they accept the contract - to find
access to Bifi Anorak.

I looked up from the letter - the tears were always running down my father's
face and the expression on his face expressed great sadness. "Lady Y - mom"?
Papa nodded silently. I knew that my mother and my father had worked as a hit
man since my father introduced me to the family business. But the
circumstances of her death - he had lied to me. She hadn't died of cancer - he
wanted to spare me. But this letter from Mister Z must have broken through a
wall. "Now you finally know. I knew that your mother was violently killed -
but I couldn't find out anything about the background, "he sobbed. Tears
welled up in my eyes too - and I cry with my father. "It shouldn't be a
question of whether we'll take on the job - that should be clear to both of
us," I sob. Papa just nods. "Since Bifi Anorak took my mother away from me and
I never had the chance to grow up with her and learn from her, I ask for your
permission to do this job myself - for mother"! Dad looks at me seriously
"let's sleep over it first - I'm too upset at the moment". Understandable - I
feel no different. But I have made up my mind - I will avenge my mother - with
or without my father's permission.

When my father goes to sleep, he forgets to take the documents with him to his
room. I take the chance and open the envelope "Keys". I am pleased to register
that the storage room is in our place - was Mister Z a "local" or was he
"stranded" here on his escape? Anyway - I'll take the initiative! The way to
the storage room does not take much time, the storage room can be entered 24
hours a day. I pause for a moment in front of the storeroom door - was it
right to appear here without Papa? Now I'm here already - I put the key in the
door and enter the code. When entering the room, a ceiling light switches on
automatically and illuminates the room. In the middle of the room there is a
clothes rack on which a lone red nylon anorak hangs. Otherwise the room is
empty. I approach the clothes rack. I'm not an expert - but you can tell from
the anorak that it is not a mass product. An envelope protrudes from the left
anorak pocket. Of course, I put on rubber gloves before entering the building
/ storage room. I pull out the envelope and open it carefully (it is not
sealed, by the way).

Dear reader of these lines. The garment is a handmade nylon anorak with a
hood. It was designed and tailored by Gianno Alberto Pucconi. Pucconi is
considered the "Christian Dior" in the world of nylon jacket lovers. His
creations are all handmade and therefore only available in minimal numbers. It
is not for nothing that their jackets are called the Ferrari of nylon jackets.
This good piece belongs to the rarest series. Only three of these jackets were
made. One of the jackets is on display in the Metropolitan Museum in New York,
another one is owned by the Pucconi family - and the one hanging here is the
last one in this series! It bears the serial number three. On the open market,
this specimen would certainly bring more than 100,000 euros to the relevant
fetishists. I have known the Bifi anorak for decades as the devil behind the
soul is looking for this jacket. Maybe the right bait for him? Here's another
tip - there is a website

"www.Nylon-Anorak-Liebhaber-Deutschland.com"

on which like-minded people can exchange ideas

If there were a chair in this room - I would have had to sit down first. So I
stop, put the letter back in the envelope and put it in my jacket. I take my
little digital camera out of my jacket and photograph the nylon anorak from
all sides. I take special care when photographing the label. Then I leave the
room and drive home again - quite agitated. Sleep is out of the question, so I
go to my computer in my room and log into the Internet via an anonymous server
- you can never be too careful. Praise to the Internet - I heard (haha) that
research was time-consuming in the "pre-Internet days". Now just enter a
search term - and you have tons of results. The nylon anorak lovers page is
quite clear - apparently only a few people admit their preferences. A search
for Bifi Anorak directly produces no hits at all ??? So I try it in the
DarkNet - with more success. But now I am overcome by tiredness and I postpone
further activities until later - first of all I have to talk to my father.

"I already suspected / feared that you would be impatient," my father tells me
without reproach - I hear some pride in his voice (?) - when we meet again in
the kitchen early in the morning. He has prepared an extensive breakfast for
both of us - and I give it a lot. After finishing our sumptuous breakfast, I
tell my father about my nightly activities. He nods benevolently. "Your mother
would be proud of you. You have shown initiative - and have shown caution and
care. But this Bifi anorak seems like a very dangerous man. I will do the job
myself and alone. And try not to contradict me - it is not negotiable ". My
own father wants to rob me of my vengeance for my mother? I nod - but I'm
bubbling inside! "I will take your research into account in my planning.
However, I still have an order that I have to do beforehand - a matter of
deadlines, so to speak. But after that the Bifi Anorak is due, "he says. I nod
again - but inside I know - if I want to avenge myself for my mother - then I
have to act quickly. But don't forget to be careful and careful!

I put three photos of the nylon anorak (including the photo with the serial
number) on the nylon friend's website with a note about my inheritance. Even
if I had a direct address from Bifi Anorak (which I don't have despite
intensive research) - I "don't know him". Maybe he'll take the bait - if he's
such a fanatic as Mister Z wrote, he won't be able to resist. Of course I have
set up a new e-mail address (Nylon.ErbinSandra@yahoo.com) especially for the
answer. Less than three hours later, I received a single message. "Dear
heiress! I became aware of your photos / message on "our site". I assume they
intend to sell you inheritance? If so, please ignore messages from other
users. I hereby officially declare my interest in the nylon anorak. If you are
interested please contact me at (interest.NylonAnorak@yahoo.com). I look
forward to reading from you. Greetings, B.A.

B.A. - Bifi anorak? Since time is of the essence (keyword father) I get in
touch with B.A. on. "Dear B.A. , I thank you for your prompt report. Yes - I
intend to sell the nylon anorak. My interests in fashion are a little
different for me. You are also welcome to examine the nylon anorak in reality.
If you are interested, just get in touch. I am looking forward to your reply!
Greetings Sandra ". And now just press send. Said and done. And within half an
hour you get the reply: "Dear Sandra - I hope I can address you like that (?),
Thank you very much for your prompt response. You made an old man very happy
with your answer. I would love to take a look at the nylon anorak. Just say
when and where - I will follow you! Greetings from Bifi! ".

I think it should be certain that I have found the right "recipient". Now
slowly pull in the bait "Hello Bifi - I hope you don't take the personal
approach off me. Of course I would be happy if you take a look at the anorak
yourself - and make me an offer that I cannot refuse. What do you think if we
meet directly at the warehouse in which the anorak is stored in an
air-conditioned storage room. I hope the journey to Kiel (Schleswig Holstein)
is not too difficult for you. I'll send you the address in the attachment. I'm
on a semester break, but I'm on a cruise from the day after tomorrow until the
week after next. I would be happy if we could meet at short notice ". And
press send again. And the answer comes promptly: "I would love to - would you
be fine tomorrow evening around 9 p.m.? Greetings, Bifi ". I confirm the
appointment!

Bifi Anorak was a suspicious and cautious person. But his instincts have waned
over the years. It does not occur to him that the anorak offer could be a
trap. His fetish - his addiction - is just too big. And the chance to call
this "piece of jewelery" his own - that makes him ignore the rest of the
mistrust. Thinking about tomorrow's meeting with Sandra makes him horny. He
goes into the basement of his house, which has a sauna - which is always in
use. Four red nylon anoraks with hoods hang in front of the sauna entrance.
Mass-produced goods - but acceptable for its purposes. After he has showered
himself intensely and dried himself off, he puts on one of the anoraks, pulls
up the zipper, puts on the hood and pulls the cord so tight that only his face
is not covered. With a lot of excitement - also in the area of "�"�his
genitals - he enters the sauna. After almost half an hour in the sauna - which
leads him to the edge of a circulatory collapse - he leaves the sauna, takes
off the nylon anorak and throws it carelessly into the corner. The good part
has served its purpose and is disposed of. Exhausted but satisfied, he goes to
sleep - what he dreams of should be clear.

I prepare carefully to meet my mother's murderer. First I get a pistol with a
silencer from our shared gun cabinet. There is still a certain risk - what if
dad looks into the closet and notices the "loss" of the weapon? I have to take
this risk! A bullet-proof and puncture-proof vest to wear as well as pepper
spray and a can with a fast-acting anesthetic are also part of my "basic
equipment" which I stow in my large handbag (typical for a young girl like
me?). And of course - not to forget - my double-edged combat knife. How else
am I supposed to do my first "trophy"? A resealable, transparent plastic bag
with a zip closure completes my "luggage". My father doesn't seem to have been
to the gun cabinet in the basement today. At dinner we talk about god and the
world - just not about the Bifi anorak. It's better that way - I don't know if
I could have lied to my father.

The next day is outwardly quite uneventful. I go to an observation post near
the warehouse in the early evening. I told Dad that I was going to make a
train through the church with two friends. "Have fun my darling - and take
good care of yourself" he tells me on my way. A quarter of an hour before my
appointment with Bifi, I see a Ferrari driving into the yard of the warehouse.
A single elderly man gets out. Bifi? I also enter the warehouse. "Mr. Bifi?
Hello, I'm Sandra ". He nods, takes my hand, kisses me on the hand. "Hello
Sandra, very nice to meet you. And on time! Punctuality is not a matter of
course in today's times ". I smile sheepishly. "Good manners are no longer a
matter of course these days. I only know a kiss on the hand from films - but I
feel very honored "! He smiles at me, "with a woman as beautiful as you, it is
your duty to show your respect." I know that I look cool and that I make men
wild with my body. I think I blush at his compliment "please allow me a
personal question. When I hear her first name, I automatically think of the
salami snack of the same name. Do you have anything to do with it? Bifi laughs
heartily "My full name is actually Birger Finn Anorak. Bifi is the short form
of my two first names. And my last name is the result of my grandparents /
parents fleeing at the end of World War II. Originally the family on the
father's side comes from Upper Silesia and was called Ano Rack with the family
name. Old Upper Silesian peasant nobility. When I arrived in Schleswig
Holstein, the officer who recorded the data of my grandparents / parents -
original sound my grandfather - was probably drunk. And so Ano Rack became the
current family name Anorak. I hope I haven't bored her with it, "says Bifi
with what I think is a false smile. I'm shivering! "You haven't bored me - do
we want to take a look at the anorak now?" I whisper. He nods and follows me
into the warehouse.

When we stand in front of the storage room, I cover the keypad with my body
and enter the code. Turning the key and opening the door happens in one
flowing movement. I bow and ask him to be the first to enter the storage room.
I step into the room directly behind him and hear a loud astonished sigh of
relief from my victim. His eyes are wide and his face is glowing. "Please come
closer - and calmly put it on". Bifi goes to the clothes rack, examines the
nylon anorak from all sides - almost as if he wants to undress a woman with
his eyes. "Do you really think I could put it on?" He asks, slightly doubtful.
"Of course" I am completely clueless. He takes off his jacket, almost lovingly
takes the anorak off the clothes rack and slips into it. It fits him like a
glove. Pull up the zipper and put on the hood in one flowing movement. His
face glows a deep red color. He seems very happy and excited too. Then it
rotates on its own axis - and again. In the meantime I have pulled the pistol
with the silencer out of my pocket. When he is face to face to me again after
his second turn, I fire first in both shoulders and in his thighs in quick
succession. He falls to the floor and screams in pain and anger, "You stupid
bitch - what's this? You damaged this priceless one-off ". I have the
impression that the damage to the anorak affects him more than his own
injuries. I bend down to him, open his fly and reach for his member. It
immediately starts to stiffen. I pull his member out of my pants, put the
pistol behind me and pick up the knife. When he sees the knife he starts to
whimper. "This is for my mother - who you tortured and killed" I say with a
coldness in my voice that I would not have believed myself capable of.
Applying the knife and castrating him alive is a blessing - and his screams of
pain are music to my ears. Now my trophy is stowed in a "leak-proof" plastic
bag, pistol with silencer, knife and the bag end up in my handbag. Bifi is
extremely bleeding from his wounds. With this sight I leave the storage room
and lock it behind me.

As I leave the warehouse, I grab my head and pull down my blonde wig. Now I'm
Lena again - Sandra has had its day. "I should have thought that you would
start going it alone again. That's why I followed you to be able to intervene
if necessary, "I hear my father say as he steps out from behind a tree. "Is
everything okay" he asks? I just nod. "My dear Sparrow - we really have to
have a serious conversation," he says with a smile. Where he's right - he's
right. But I finally have my first trophy that I can put in a glass container
with preservative liquid in my trophy cupboard - a gesture to my mother, so to
speak.

More stories: The death whore / Maha Alexandrovna Peskovic / Espionage and

death / Alina - her first and second kill