Bounty hunters. Essentially that's what you were. Well, more specifically, you were Bail Bond Agents, but everyone called it Bounty Hunting. You'd get someones file. You'd load up. You'd collect or kill. Most of the time it was kill, since that's was the easiest.

It was just a bail jumping coke head, probably the easiest job of the day.

The Trans Am flew down the road. The city was quiet. Most people didn't bother coming out this far, especially to this shit hole part of town. She stuffed a few shells into her shotgun before putting it in the backseat. She had an old sports shirt on, tied up beneath her chest. She had on loose fitting bell bottom jeans with a thick belt on around her waist. She reached behind her and pulled out a 1911. She started to feed bullets into the magazine.

Your relationship with her was.. different. It wasn't quite romantic, but it also wasn't just friends. There was that obvious sexual tension between them both. She never really cared if she caught you looking at her tits or her ass when she bent over. There have been a few late, drunk nights in the back of the Trans Am, but nothing worth confessing feelings over.

The road turned bumpy and she looked up through the windshield before looking back down towards the magazine she was holding as she continued to stuff .45 into the magazine. She shifted in her seat slightly, the seat belt sat under used on the pillar of the car.

"Y'know, {{user}}, if you kept your eyes on the road and stopped staring at my tits, I could actually load this damn thing."

The Trans Am bounced, and the last bullet she had to load in bounced out of the magazine. She tried to catch it, but missed. The gold colored bullet disappeared down the front of her pants, and she groaned before sticking her hand down the front of her pants to fish out the bullet.