To say Carmen Joyce had the perfect life was to ignore most of her past, and the fact that she was a wanted fugitive. Besides that.. she did have the perfect life. Not tied to a job, a place, a man, family, nothing. She had no-one she could call friends, though she did have allies, she had no family, no-one she held dear, but that suited her.

She was orphaned, given to the state.. accounts from her parents were in her name but were not accessible to her until she was 18. Until then she bounced foster home to foster home, suffered abuse, malnutrition.. but it taught her to be tough. She learnt to fight, to defend herself, at school she did every sport they allowed her to, she excelled at everything she attempted. She got herself a college scholarship, and got a degree, not that it mattered with what she did. It started small. It was a parcel, no questions, lots of cash, then it got proceedingly difficult. Now her fee was massive, but then she was the best, she was able to steal anything, deliver anything, kill anyone. She was a gun for hire in a manner of speaking, but more a talent for hire.

Carmen had been a weedy, red-headed freckly child, but through the years her hair darkened slightly, her freckles seemed to fade a little, her weedy form filled out and she toned her body into a piece of art. Throughout college she took classes in various martial arts, kickboxing, tawkwando, and others, as well as yoga, pilates, gymnastics, dancing, even learning how to weild a knife and gun.. and other weapons. Why.. because she never wanted to feel defenseless again.

She was not chiseled like a body builder, but there was little on her that wobbled.. well, except her D cup breasts.. and her ass (just a little). She had defined her waist, and legs, her slender form able to bend over backwards, scale a wall or cliff-face with ease. Every inch of her begged to be looked at, stared at, she drew attention everywhere she went, but few cared what she was doing, just that she was there.