"How do you want to play this?" Justin asked while lowering the tailgate on the back of his pickup truck.
"Well you read the file, this prick ain't going easy." Gilbert answered, dragging his gear bag to the edge of the truck bed. "Go in hot. Lay his ass in the dirt."
Justin Hernandez draped his bail enforcement agent badge around his neck and turned to watch the sun rise over distant pines. Gilbert Swatz just methodically unpacked his weaponry from his gear bag. They were parked half a mile away from the only house set at the top of a private driveway deep in the Cumberland Mountains of West Virginia. After a hard three months of tracking, they finally found themselves just two steps behind their quarry. Dale Moony was an American stereotype, a misfit child warped by the cruel hand of fate and a neglectful mother. His mother was an addict, drunk, a barfly that clung to the fast and rancid fringes of a local motorcycle gang out of northern Ohio. She migrated with a few key members to a chapter violently gaining ground in middle Tennessee, ingesting all manner of narcotics and slamming beers, howling at the moon and getting passed around among the biker gang. Moony never knew who his father was just a faceless outlaw in a dim lit bedroom shoulder to shoulder with the others as his mother had another train ran on her. So no one was surprised that he followed the same grim road as the hard men dragged through his life. He was a soft child, sometimes mockingly referred to as sponge-like. That's exactly what he was, a sponge soaking up all the criminal knowledge and violence that saturated his childhood. Dale Moony was out on his second drug charge within several months, skipping on a twenty-five-thousand dollar bond.
Justin finished strapping on his bulletproof vest and leaned against the front of his truck, lighting a cigarette. He pulled his ten power binoculars up to his face and scouted the trees near the top of the hill, masking the only house for miles.
"We just need to separate him from his boys and that pussy will lay flat for us." He suggested to his partner Gilbert. "Probably has that psycho Rooster with him."
"That's who that whore described back in Delbarton. Tall ugly sumbitch with a pair of scissors tattooed under his left eye." Gilbert responded. "Locals ain't gonna back us up on this one so we need to get on top of that crazy fucker right from the jump."
Gilbert Swatz had called an hour earlier to notify local law enforcement of their presence and their intentions, only to be met with open resentment. Bail enforcement was an unpopular profession among some police agencies who didn't appreciate foreign enforcers sneaking around their back yard making clumsy arrests. Justin Hernandez slammed a full magazine into his Glock 17 and racked the slide on it loading a round into the chamber, then a quick press check before he holstered it. They both carried pistols strong side carry but considered them their last resort. Even though the laws of their profession danced in the gray area of legal ambiguity lethal force was a slippery slope. Not to mention frowned upon when a fugitive was delivered to the coroners instead of the jailhouse. Justin then loaded seven non-lethal rubber slugs into his Mossberg 590 shotgun. Gilbert in turn loaded his Remington 870 shotgun the same and pocketed a few extra rounds.
"well..." Gilbert sighed looking up the hill at the task before them.
Justin shouldered his shotgun and led the way into the heavily wooded area alongside the driveway. Their plan was to snake up the hill through the trees just close enough to get visual confirmation that their prey was indeed in that house. A quick trek meant a slow one that would take them nearly fifteen minutes to cover. Gilbert, the eldest of the two paused halfway up leaning against a tree to catch his breath as the nearly vertical hike accelerated his heart rate. Nearly twenty years younger than his partner Justin trudged on. He gazed through his binoculars again once he got roughly thirty yards from the house. There were three choppers and a touring bike parked alongside a muddy Honda Civic right off the front deck. He whispered the tag numbers into a mini tape recorder that he kept in his back pocket. Gilbert crept beside him using his own binoculars to peep through the front curtainless windows. An odd upward angle didn't yield much so Gilbert wordlessly motioned for them to inch closer to the far left side of the Honda away from the large bay window.
"I need to get higher. Can't see shit but the ceiling." Justin hissed, duck walking to the furthest corner of the deck.
Gilbert waited for his partner to hoist himself over the guard rail and nestle up right beside the edge of the huge front window, before cursing under his breath and shuffling over to join him.
He watched Justin slowly chance a quick look through the window and felt his stomach knot up as he registered the confused look on his face. Justin craned his neck a little to get a better view, unsure of what he was seeing.
"What?" Gilbert hissed.
His partner didn't answer at first, but his posture relaxed, and he turned and cupped his hands near the glass getting an honest look, then he stepped back with a huge grin on his face.
"I don't know Gil..." was all he could manage.
Gilbert knew he couldn't vault over the deck's guard rail as nimbly as his young Hispanic counterpart, so he crouched and swiftly sprinted up the few steps. It took a minute to register what was happening as the shock sent blood rushing to his brain. Then there was a relief as the two bounty hunters finally laid eyes on their target. The house was just another flop house that the biker gang used for drug deals so it was sparsely furnished. Dale Moony was seated on a battered couch with his pants around his ankles, head back as a chubby whore gave him a blowjob. There was also a biker completely naked from the waist down slamming into her from behind doggy style. Two more biker soldiers stood off to the side chugging beer, hooting and cheering while waiting for their turn. Rooster sat in a folding chair at the far side of the living room talking to a young college aged kid, possibly about the bags of pills piled on the card table between them. The young kid smoked a cigarette nervously shaking his head and talking with his hands a lot. Rooster just eyed him with a loose unfriendly smile on his face.
Gilbert watched Dale with a fistful of the girl's dirty blonde hair shove her face down harder onto his lap, forcing his cock deeper down her throat as his buddy slapped her reddening ass and began to hump faster. He then shook off the lustful hypnosis and looked over to his partner who just smiled and shrugged his shoulders. Justin pulled back the pump on his shotgun to hand load a breeching round designed to destroy the locks and hinges on doors. Gilbert nodded, stepping back and watching as the twelve-gauge breeching round erupted out of the shotgun's barrel punching the lock completely out of the door. The younger bounty hunter kicked the door and launched into the room without hesitation.
"Bail enforcement agents don't fucking move!" Gilbert Swatz hollered following right behind his partner.
Everyone startled and froze except the soldier behind the girl he just tightened his grip on her hips and pushed into her one last time obviously finishing. Justin Hernandez grabbed him by the collar of his vest and snatched him back off her.
"You bitches again?" Rooster growled. "Thought we lost you assholes back at the state line."
Hernandez swiftly crossed the room and leveled his Mossberg shotgun at the seated man's face.
"Relax." Gilbert cautioned. "Moony turn that girl loose and get your britches up."
"C'mon fellas I already paid at least let me finish." Dale whined.
"Fuck these assholes Moony they ain't cops keep fuckin' that slut's mouth." Rooster crowed. "Hell, you see Kyle got his nut off."
The girl squealed and scurried behind the nervous college kid who obviously brought her.
"Awe come on Brittney." Kyle laughed standing and pulling his pants back on. "Rooster already paid let my brothers have a turn."
"This shit is over everybody shut the fuck up!" Justin roared taking control of the room. "Dale we don't like asking twice. Zip up and let's fucking go."
Dale Moony hesitated, assessing the severity of the situation. Both bounty hunters gave him ice so he stood and jerked his dick at them a few times before complying.
"Losers." He sulked. "You could've had a turn too."
The elder bail enforcement agent grabbed him by the collar and shoved him up against the wall, he quickly cuffed his hands behind his back intending to search him once they had him outside. Three biker soldiers stood back behind the couch glaring at them with open hostility, but none dared make a move not while on the wrong side of a shotgun. After all Dale Moony wasn't actually a member, just a civilian that liked to party with them. A fun guy but not worth the legal trouble. Not wearing the club patch than you ride alone, Godspeed. They cleared their throats and went back to casually drinking their beers.
