[Vedderman]

Meet Ninha. Though born to the eminently fertile Da Silva lineage (at least one in three people in Brazil share the name), Ninha yearned from a tender age to break away from genealogical banality and make for herself a new name.

A name better suited to her talents and aspirations.

A majestic and noble moniker inexorably entangled throughout the centuries with Kings of Egypt and sandaled Sons of Heaven in the shadowed Orient.

How she acquired the distinguished sobriquet is a tale lost even to the sages of old. All that truly matters is that those who knew her, knew her not as "Ninha da Silva from the block." No. To all and sundry she would forever be...

Ninha Gato

Unfortunately for Ninha, it was the freewheeling penchant for perfidy and mischief that she inherited from her feline namesake; not the elegant charm and predatory instincts. She had an affinity for graft and misconduct, but regrettably lacked the ingenuity and sharpness of wit to make it a serviceable profession.

So Ninha spent as much time in the jail as she did in the cathouse. Drugs. Petty theft. Check kiting. Drugs. Shredding the toilet paper. The list was long and largely without consequence.

Being the lowest sort of petty criminal, Ninha never stayed long in the cells, though she was always quick to revisit them.

After her most recent release, she was sitting in the Master Dining Hall of her dear friend's corrugated tin shanty drinking the finest of beverages and enjoying what one must truly assume to be the conversation of the Ages. The two were deep int heir cups when the hue and cry went up that a palatial estate just down the way had caught fire, presumably because one of the many servants made a gross miscalculation in the cooking time of the evening fare.

Never one to miss a party, Ninha gave a cat-like yowl and sprang to her feet with all the grace and alacrity of her treasured namesake. She and her companion rushed outside, eager to see the whole of their neighbor's possessions consigned to the retributive flames of Hell.

Unfortunately, the sort of crowd that shows up to watch a 600-dollar house burn to the ground is just the sort of crowd you probably want to avoid if you're a small-time crook with a long rap sheet and a longer list of enemies. It seems someone in the assembly recognized our feline friend and decided to make a reckoning.

By the time the smoke cleared and the shots had faded, the crowd had dispersed in panic and Ninha and her friend lay bleeding on the streets. The friend recovered in the hospital (last photo below), but it seems poor Ninha had squandered all nine of her lives in a woefully misspent timeline of peril and risk.

She lay where she fell, riddled with bullets and passing into the annals of history with all the pomp and accolades to which she'd become accustomed.

[retrocube]

A veritable misfortune indeed. She must have met with her arch-nemesis, one by the name of Curiosity.

[K53]

She deserved more from life/

[spudigitti]

[Spiritual]

Rough way to live, rough way to go...!

[kellyhound]

The author of the shots was not identified, but there is information that the crime was motivated by a possible debt she had with drug traffickers.
if you don't pay in time you know any day can be your last one.

[cardsharksam]

A sad story of woe hath befell her

[William May]

Originally Posted by retrocube ↗

A veritable misfortune indeed. She must have met with her arch-nemesis, one by the name of Curiosity.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Good one!

[William May]

Originally Posted by Vedderman ↗

Meet Ninha. Though born to the eminently fertile Da Silva lineage (at least one in three people in Brazil share the name), Ninha yearned from a tender age to break away from genealogical banality and make for herself a new name.

A name better suited to her talents and aspirations.

A majestic and noble moniker inexorably entangled throughout the centuries with Kings of Egypt and sandaled Sons of Heaven in the shadowed Orient.

How she acquired the distinguished sobriquet is a tale lost even to the sages of old. All that truly matters is that those who knew her, knew her not as "Ninha da Silva from the block." No. To all and sundry she would forever be...

Ninha Gato

Unfortunately for Ninha, it was the freewheeling penchant for perfidy and mischief that she inherited from her feline namesake; not the elegant charm and predatory instincts. She had an affinity for graft and misconduct, but regrettably lacked the ingenuity and sharpness of wit to make it a serviceable profession.

So Ninha spent as much time in the jail as she did in the cathouse. Drugs. Petty theft. Check kiting. Drugs. Shredding the toilet paper. The list was long and largely without consequence.

Being the lowest sort of petty criminal, Ninha never stayed long in the cells, though she was always quick to revisit them.

After her most recent release, she was sitting in the Master Dining Hall of her dear friend's corrugated tin shanty drinking the finest of beverages and enjoying what one must truly assume to be the conversation of the Ages. The two were deep int heir cups when the hue and cry went up that a palatial estate just down the way had caught fire, presumably because one of the many servants made a gross miscalculation in the cooking time of the evening fare.

Never one to miss a party, Ninha gave a cat-like yowl and sprang to her feet with all the grace and alacrity of her treasured namesake. She and her companion rushed outside, eager to see the whole of their neighbor's possessions consigned to the retributive flames of Hell.

Unfortunately, the sort of crowd that shows up to watch a 600-dollar house burn to the ground is just the sort of crowd you probably want to avoid if you're a small-time crook with a long rap sheet and a longer list of enemies. It seems someone in the assembly recognized our feline friend and decided to make a reckoning.

By the time the smoke cleared and the shots had faded, the crowd had dispersed in panic and Ninha and her friend lay bleeding on the streets. The friend recovered in the hospital (last photo below), but it seems poor Ninha had squandered all nine of her lives in a woefully misspent timeline of peril and risk.

She lay where she fell, riddled with bullets and passing into the annals of history with all the pomp and accolades to which she'd become accustomed.

Vedderman, you have SUCH a way with words! By the time I was done reading, I was expecting a fairy princess!

[BuckRoger]

The last one is cosplay?