Rhett Remington: The Monster Bounty Hunter

“I’m cracking a window,” I reached for the slider, gasping at the rotten smell.

“Boy, that shit stinks,” I said as Marv stuffed another Kimchi- cheese fry into his greasy maw and looked confused.

“You don’t like fries, Rhett?” He said around a mouth full of grease, then grabbed his soda and slurped loudly.

“I don’t like rotten cabbage. Why would you eat that crap? For that matter, you had it for lunch, why would you do it twice?”

The stakeout had been a disaster.

Initially, I’d wanted to go it alone. But Marv wore me down with his “girls your age shouldn’t be alone in that neighborhood” bullshit. Then he looked at me like a kicked dog with its “don’t leave me behind again,” hang dog expression.

I was still new as a certified fugitive recovery agent. I’d only been on my own for a few months after I passed the cert exam. Hell, I knew I wasn’t exactly the most experienced bounty hunter out there, but I didn’t need a babysitter.

Special Operations Group had taught me a thing or two, even if I couldn’t be a Special Forces operator. I wasn’t some fainting flower. I had SERE training. The Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape course was no summer camp, but there was some value in having an extra set of eyes. Even if he wouldn’t shut off that damn news media stream.

In breaking news today, Police responded to a ‘shots fired’ report on Linder and Chinden Ave. The reported club house of the infamous Red State Militia Motorcycle gang came under attack from what is believed to have been a rival organization. Early reports indicate several causalities,” a reporter said with a tone intended to indicate his serious concern and compassion.

So, there I was, stuck in a panel van a pedophile would be proud of, with a mural of an Iron Wolf on the side. And of course, Marv. Marv who was eating everything he knew his doctor would be pissed about.

"Marv, can you shut that shit off? It’s depressing as hell," I complained.

Marv had a heart of gold, but his brain was in his belly, when it wasn’t in his pants.

Yeah, not my best pick for a partner on a hunt. But the guy had a car, and more importantly, he was big. Not just fat rolls and chins big, but push people around the mat in a diaper, big.

“We all have our addictions, Rhett. You can’t pass on a paycheck, or say no a glass of wine. I love gourmet food and news media. Besides, kimchi and chips are amazing with cheese,” he said.

“In as a matter of fact, I heard on the news that Koreans live longer than nearly any other culture,” he assured me.

“Koreans don’t eat it with burgers from Fat Guy’s Burger Shop, with a side of stank fries,” I groaned.

“I think between the burger and the kimchi it will all balance out, besides, girls love a Sumo,” he said as he took another bite and grease ran down his chubby fingers.

“No, it won’t 'even out', and how can we stake her out if she can smell you from a mile away?” I complained and tried to press my nose closer to the crack in the window.

“I need something lethal,” he said and licked his fingers.

“It’s the only defense I have. You took my TX22 away,” he said with a trace of butt hurt, I could just make out between obnoxiously loud chewing.

Glancing at Marv, I said, “It was me or the cops. Besides, you need a sixteen shot Taurus pistol like I---“

Then there she was. Porsha Iceni.

Porsha wasn’t a tall girl, maybe five foot two, if I was guessing, but she dressed to show off her best attributes. A purple tube top exposing a toned midriff and what had to be either fake boobs, or the girl was truly blessed by the gods of lap dances. Matching a peach of an ass that I knew Marv would have given his right leg, just to take a bite.

Despite her attire, the girl was straight up classy. This was on display with the battered teddy bear tattoo on her right shoulder blade. That, and what appeared to be pink angel wings peeking out from above and below her baby panda backpack.

Her hair was colored silver and light purple. And the piercing through her nasal septum matched the ones in both ears. About a inch from the corners of her lips, piercing studs gave her the appearance of dimples, which only added to the weird innocent vixen vibe she had going on.

Marv lifted his camera and looked at her through the telephoto lens. “Did she fall into a tackle box or is she just into S&M?” he asked like it was the wittiest thing ever said, then, not seeing a reaction he sobered up.

“So, what’s her deal, anyway? Did she go from show and tell, to pay to play?” Marv asked.

“Local PD picked her up on prostitution charges,” I nodded, “then they discovered all the credit cards she stole and they added grand theft to the mix. She’s a real player, or at least she knows the game,” I said, and Marv glanced my way with a question on his lips.

“What idiots," he cackled, "how did she get bonded so fast?” Marv laughed, though I’d bet a dollar she could've had his American Express in her hand in less than five minutes.

"A cop got caught with his hand up her shirt. The DA was trying to figure out what to do about all that, but I guess something gave, because they didn't drop the charges. The whole thing is a shit show, but its their shit show not mine," I explained.

“Up her shirt? Like feeling her up? Moron could have just caught her act at the Red Hot FOXXX” Marv adjusted his girth, and I wondered for a second if he was becoming aroused as he thought about it.

“She really appeals mostly to the weirdos who like little girls, you know, because she’s so small and--,” Marv cleared this throat, then at least had the humility to blush a little.

Marv pulled a rag out of the back of the front seat and wiped away a layer of sweat. “You’re a pig Marv. Did you know that?”

“To hell with that, she's not my type," Marv insisted, but quickly brought the binoculars up with a shaking hand. "I just have the meat sweats,” he said.

“I’m sure you do,” I scoffed.

“I normally eat a lot of rice and beef soup. My trainer doesn’t like it when we eat outside of our menu,” he said as he wolfed down another bite, his eyes never leaving the figure as she stood on her stairs.

“Just get wired for communication in case things go bad. I want to be able to tell you where to bring the van when she bolts,” I said, and Marv agreed with a bob of his head.

We’d done this once before. We both knew Marv isn’t the ‘pursue on foot’ kind of guy. We’d tried that and it cost me a bounty. Now, I either run them toward him, or he keeps them from fleeing.

Sometimes it’s nice to have someone who can push people around, literally.

“We can grab her coming out of the apartment. Maybe you can walk up toward her, act like yourself, and I’ll grab her while she’s grossed out,” I teased.

Marv paused and turned to look at her from over his Binos. For a moment, he just stared with a little annoyed expression on his face.

“Nice, real nice Rhett,” he said and tossed the Binos on the dash before grabbing a napkin.

Pushing myself toward the back doors, I did my best to ignore him. Marv was a nice guy honestly, even if he had some odious personal habits.

But it was too easy to say something mean to him once in a while. And sometimes it became hard not to. So, I chided myself a little and shot him an apologetic smile before adding, “Come on, I’ll buy you a beer later, just don’t stare at my ass while we’re walking up, its creepy,” I laughed.

“I can look you in the eyes and still be looking at an ass,” Marv said dead panned, and I hissed like I’d been burned.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

That seemed to settle things between us, because with a grunt he tossed the remains of his sandwich into the brown bag it came in and scooted toward the back. Once I was out of the back, he rolled out behind me, leaving the van rocking on its shocks.

I wasn’t kidding about the tactics. I know people, and one thing I know about strippers is they will take one of two tactics when in a situation like this. One is the “annoyed brush off.”

In that scenario, she would come up and Marv would say something corny to her. She's dealt with a lot of corny men in her job, so she will toss some attitude, say something mean spirited and hustle off.

In a bad situation, a guy will grab her arm to stop her. She can then move to scenario two or kick him in the jewels and run.

In ‘Scenario two’ she will realize that this is a ‘More flies with honey, then vinegar’ situation.

She can be as sweet as possible, and try to charm, flirt, or flatter the individual into leaving her alone. It could come with a fake phone number, or a attitude that said wanted to be accommodating.

She can always revert to “Scenario one” if things go poorly, or if she realizes there is no need or time to accommodate. I was ready for either. Regardless of which tactic she took initially, the end would be the same.

She was going to run.

I knew she was going to run because they always run. Running got them in my sights in the first place. If they’ll run from the law, they’ll sure as hell run from me.

Now, my goal is to direct them to where I wanted them to go. Marv was nothing if not large. Most people will not try to run past a large man, they will take the quickest possible escape route, and that was the trap. I’d be just around the corner and when she ran past me, I could take her down.

Porsha exited the stairs quicker than I expected, and faster than she should have been in platformed boots. But we were in place.

Pink haired woman with facial piercings and Anime attire [https://images.nightcafe.studio/jobs/h0QsTgRBuDj8Sq3tZIt1/h0QsTgRBuDj8Sq3tZIt1--1--imku3.jpg?tr=w-1600,c-at_max]

Marv moved toward the door, putting his body just ahead of the first step, and Porsha paused just as I expected. There was a moment when she saw his intent to intercept, and it looked like panic lit her features.

With a glance, she looked around her, noticing she was cut off to her front and to the right, but the left-hand sidewalk was open.

“Hey, aren’t you Porsha from the Foxx?” his face brightened and oddly so did Porsha’s.

I’d be appalled to be ‘porn star famous’, but Porsha seemed pleased to be known on sight, and visibly relaxed.

“Do I know you?” She said with a coy smile and turned her head to give him the playfully suspicious side eye. It was then I noticed her eyes, they were a light lavender. It was the oddest thing I had ever seen, well, except seeing Marv eat a whole deep-dish pizza.

“Oh, you must meet a lot of guys like me. I’m Marv. I’m the guy who gives out fivers,” he said as if it were so unusual give a dancer a five-dollar bill, that she would immediately remember him.

Okay, sure, Marv is hard not to remember. Six foot four, nearly four hundred pounds and hands the size of a catcher’s glove.

“Oh, okay,” she said with a singsong voice that told me she was launching into scenario two.

“I always remember a big spender, it makes me feel, you know, special,” she said rolling her eyes in a cutesy way that made me feel sick. More so when she reached out and started petting his arm.

“So, I’m a little busy right now,” she said, making the last word go high like she was asking a question, like she was unsure if she really was busy.

“Maybe we could talk again later? I’d love to see you at the FoXXX,” she cooed and winked conspiratorially.

“Are you sure you can’t take a moment now? I know your time away from work is important, but I just have this new business I am starting,” he shrugged with his whole body, from eyebrows to ass, and held up a camera.

She glanced at Marv’s camera, then back to his eyes.

“Oh, yeah…no? I work with Marčelo, he would be furious if I worked with anyone else. Besides, he does my headshots for free,” she dimpled.

Her voice was taking on the slightly annoyed edge I was waiting for, and Marv played it with perfection.

“He will be disappointed if you have a shoot today,” he said his face going hard.

“He would, why?” she asked innocently, but I could see her feet move just a bit toward her escape route.

“Because, they'll take another mug shot when I take you in. I’m afraid I am here to collect your bounty Porsha, you skipped out on your court appearance.”

“You’re a bail cop?” She asked with a stupid, wide eyed, confused expression on her face.

I could see her point. You don’t see someone like Marv and think Bounty Hunter.

After that whole TV series with the blond guy who looked like a cross between a biker and a professional wrestler became popular, everyone expected something more exciting. At least not someone who looked like they couldn't run twenty feet without stopping for a hotdog, complete with grease on his fingers and a little smudge of ketchup on his cheek.

“I’m a Fugitive Recovery Agent,” he claimed, as if he spent the months of studying and lost sleep like I did.

Porsha’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment she looked him over, weighing her options and perhaps Marv’s weight in her mind.

I knew she’d try one more ploy. The lady's Ace, the seduction ploy.

“Oh, I thought I had that all cleared up,” she lied.

“I can just pay you the money back, right? That would be cool, wouldn’t it?” She dimpled again but this time she coyly bit the corner of her full lower lip.

If only it where that simple. If you want to make sure you never work again, just collect the money for the bondsman. No, once they skip, they have to stand before the black robe.

I'm not saying I never heard of a bounty hunter taking a bribe, it just isn't normally worth the risk.

We tend to only get paid a percentage of the bond itself. Say the judge sets the bond for twenty grand, I would get ten percent of that. However, sometimes you spend more time on the case then the money is worth. Two grand is great for a day’s work, it’s total shit for two weeks. So, a bribe could be appealing to some.

But all this shit is boring trade talk, so let’s move on.

“That’d cost me my license,” Marv debated, though he added just the right touch of looking tempted. “Though maybe we could work something out?”

He eyed her up and down in a typical scumbag manner, but Porsha smiled her big artificial dimple smile, and took on a much more alluring pose, her back slightly arched, and hip cocked in his direction.

“Maybe we could go inside and talk about it?” she practically purred and slid in closer to him. “I could make us breakfast.”

“It’s 9 pm,” he grinned as she reached out to tease his tie.

“Who said I was talking about eating right now? Morning can come pretty quick if you’re busy enough,” she winked.

I was about to spew. I could actually feel my throat clench, and I had to swallow hard several times and take deep breaths.

Despite this not going at all like I planned, the goal of getting her pinned in was still in play. If they went inside, she would be cornered so to speak. I didn’t mind that at all, but the idea of Marv putting his mouth on the skank was just too sick of words. I wasn’t sure who would infect who.

“Sure, I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to talk.” Marv looked like the cat who got the… crow, maybe the vulture? I don’t know, I can’t think of a gross enough bird, but he clearly thought things were going his way.

She led him up the stairs, and, I have to give Marv credit here. He turned on his radio to broadcast. That might have been the smartest thing that boy had ever done. Hell, I’d even be impressed if not for the puppy dog drool that was about to fall from his lips.

As they slipped inside, he paused to look down the street toward me, and winked, then followed her like a pig being led to the slaughter.

“Oh my, that is… wait how did you do that?” He said in stunned amazement.

I couldn’t see him, but as I moved toward the door, I could tell his voice was filled with real curiosity, not just enthralled horniness.

She had to be standing close to him, because I could hear her clearly as she responded. “When I had my boobs done, they had to move the areola, I asked if it had to keep looking like a large piece of salami, and they said they could cut it down to whatever size I wanted. I thought, what about shapes?”

Marv huffed something, and a little edge of what I took for excitement filled my ear. I almost wanted to wait for a moment longer so Marv could get a little action, but I knew it would come up in court if he touched her.

“Um, what are you doing?” he asked, but his voice lost the excitement, and he sounded a little concerned.

“There’s nothing to worry about. I just want smell you, taste you,” she had a breathy voice, like she was getting excited, and that was when I knew everything was going to shit.

No stripper was ever excited about being pawed at by Marv.

“Marv, what’s going on?” I said hollered, but Marv only groaned, and with a spike of fear hit me like a pinprick of electricity.

The door was one of those heavy-duty things, and shockingly it had a code pad on the door, and call buttons on the wall. Still, I tried to push it open, though I wasn’t surprised to find it locked.

“Just stay calm, Melvin. You’ll like how I make you feel, I promise,” she sighed.

Marv just groaned again, totally ignoring that she called him by the wrong name. I’d give him hell about it later, but right now I needed to focus if I was gonna get a chance.

I shouldn’t have let him go in, what was I thinking?

“What’s wrong with your eyes? What’s going on?” Panic was starting to grow in his voice, and I felt my own concern ratcheting up a peg.

I couldn’t think of anything to do, so I just hit every button on the pad. It didn’t take long before voices were asking who I was and what I wanted, but one of them just pushed the button and told me to put the pizza inside the door.

Pushing in, I looked down the hallway to see one door was slightly ajar, and I took a risk of it being the one Marv went into. I drew The Judge and kicked the door as hard as I could.

That’s when the music started playing.

Now, I’m just as much of a fan of the righteous brothers as anyone, but can we just quit with Unchained Melody? It’s not a love song, it’s freaking depressing. For me some Bruno Mars, Future, or Drake punches my ticket.

Marv was pressed against the wall. Topless, Porsha was pressed against him but she wasn’t attacking him exactly. She appeared to be holding his head steady and staring hard into his eyes, humming along to the part of the song that talks about flowing rivers, or some shit.

When the door flew open, she turned to look at me, I’ll be damned if her eyes weren't glowing a pale violet. Freaking violet, like some dumb ass movie!

Marv went down like a pile of trash, and she shot me a cold evil glare like I’d never seen before. I mean I have had jealous wives thinking I was a side girl while I was arresting their man. No, this was far worse than that, like she personally wanted to remove my skin and wear it as a dress.

Then she did something I had never expected, the bitch actually hissed at me. It wasn’t like a cat. It was throaty and full, and even as I tried to comprehend what was going on she launched herself at me.

Let me tell you a little something about myself. I don’t lose my cool. I have been shot at over sea’s, had my MRAP blown over in Iraq, had a nearly seven-foot-tall biker/ pit fighter come after me, and I never lost control. But this bitch freaked me out.

So, hell yeah, I shot her.