In honor of the upcoming start of the Spooky Season, Plum-o-ween and HP will get their Epilogue updates in the coming weeks.

For now, here's a lil eerie two parter.

Disclaimer: The Plum universe belongs to JE. Typos are my bad.

Stephanie's POV

After a long day of being boots on the ground tracking down FTAs, and taking in two medium level ones without incident might I add, a hot shower was exactly what I needed. Although I didn't have the misfortune of ending up covered in trash or gunk, much less getting chased or being shot at, my body was feeling sore from a bustling work week. One day you're young and then the next you have to take it a little easy, sheesh. Accepting Ranger's job offer once I realized that he was being serious with his vision of how I could become an asset to Rangeman, instead of being a liability that wreaks havoc at every turn, the last several months I've worked a hybrid in office and on the field schedule like the Merry Men, rotating partners in order to be better equipped in the long run. The mandatory gym time has become a little easier and more enjoyable with the varied routine and once I finally got used to regular exercise, yet I do feel the burn at the end of the work week. Being a little sore and tired has been a nice change of pace for me. With bills paid, having money in my savings account and fully stocked fridge and cupboards has cut my problems down to single digits. This new lifestyle has done wonders for my health too, having shed off those pesky fiveish doughnut pounds I'd been struggling to shrug off. Besides, I'll admit the whole exercise thing has made me better on the field, as well as makes my legs and ass look so, so good. Mary Lou said I'm hot, hot, hot when we met up for coffee yesterday. One certain Man of Mystery has lately kept his eyes glued to me, more than usual, especially when I'm working out at the Rangeman gym or playing a decoy during a distraction job.

Appreciating the rare scalding hot shower, I sped through my cleansing so that I could have the opportunity to bask under the pounding water spray cascading over my head and shoulders. When the water inevitably turned cool and then cold, I finally reached for the old knob that requires some serious grip strength to close properly. Pushing the shower curtain aside, I reached for my towel on the bar. Drying my body hastily once my stomach growled, I groaned in annoyance when I realized I left my pajamas on my bed. Ugh.

Deciding to deal with my hungry tummy first, I slipped on my trusted and well worn terry cloth robe. Yanking the bathroom door open and shuffling out to the tiny hallway leading to my bedroom, I instantly spotted a pair of muscular legs that were outstretched across the space between my couch and the coffee table.

Despite registering the familiar style of combat boots and black cargo pants, there was a lack of tingling on the back of my neck. The owner of those big feet and beefy legs isn't Ranger. I just know it's not him. For one, my Spidey Sense is not going off. Two, Ranger would have popped into the bathroom, to watch or perhaps even join me in the shower. We're in a relatively new, uncharted stage, trying to navigate something that I'm hopeful will point us in the direction of Someday. Besides, Ranger has a thing for seeing me wet, naked and in my crappy shower, regardless of handcuffs not being in the mix. Lastly, Ranger would have greeted me with his patented Babe the millisecond the bathroom door cracked open. Ranger knows I don't like being startled. I've had way too many scary encounters to last me three lifetimes. Ranger wouldn't purposely try to keep me guessing like this. He just wouldn't.

Dread settled low in the pit of my stomach as soon as I crossed the threshold into my tiny living room. My heart raced under my ribs, thundering wildly and forming a lump in my throat when I confirmed my suspicion. The man wearing a Rangeman issued uniform currently lounging on my couch is not Ranger. In fact, he's not even a Merry Man I'm familiar with.

"Hey…" I greeted tentatively, approaching slowly so that I could get a better look at his face without startling him with too sudden of movement.

"Babe."

The not so subtle jab made me feel even more uneasy. Combined with the realization that he was mid stroke, pleasuring himself while he sniffed my favorite red lacy thong, sent a full body shudder washing over me.

"Get out." Finding my voice, I ordered him to leave.

Never in a million years would this scenario have crossed my mind. The Merry Men have become an integral part of my life, even more as I got to know the guys on a more personal level and work with them through the years. I've never even dared to question their intentions. None of the Merry Men have ever given me this nauseating feeling on any occasion… until now.

Granted, the man sitting before me is not a full blown Merry Man, yet he is someone I've crossed paths with at Rangeman these past several months. Trevor, Trav, Trey… something along those lines is his name… is a contract worker, one of the more frequent ones that gets brought in whenever Rangeman needs the extra bodies and help. I haven't interacted with him beyond a quick hello when I've popped in to the monitors to say hi to one of my favorite Merry Men. Why he's here, I don't know and truthfully don't want to know.

"I'll go once I've finished". He snapped back, flexing his fingers around what looks like the panty set I removed just less than an hour ago. The slow stroke he gave his disgusting erection was deliberate, his way of trying to intimidate me.

"Leave." I bit out, Rhino Mode emerging as pure indignation and rage began to build. I used to think that there had to be something fucking wrong with me and that was the reason I was such a disaster and psycho magnet. I've come to the realization that I'm not responsible for crazy assholes getting fixated on me. That responsibility rests solely on their shoulders.

"I've served my country!" He bit out, tossing my underwear aside, discarding it now that he no longer cares for it as he leaned forward. "I'm in shape, I got the skills Rangeman looks for…" Spittle flew out of his mouth as he raked his eyes over me, revulsed. "… but you get brought on as a full time employee?!" Disdain, or maybe disgust, flashed across his icy eyes. "I didn't understand it until I saw you in that skintight, skimpy red dress." The way he smirked, I knew he was referring to the nearly indecent outfit I wore for the Staggs distraction job just weeks ago. "Obviously, you've slept your way to the top. It makes full sense when I think about it." Flashing a revolting leering grin my way, he made sure to verbalize his sick, twisted thoughts as he jerked himself some more.

"Get the fuck out of my place." Before I make you, asshole. I didn't have to yell. I made sure to pack a clear warning in the gritted order. Leave of your own accord, or regret it motherfucker.

"You can't henpeck me around like all the other Rangeman pussies that worship the fucking ground you walk on!" Lunging forward, he aimed for my waist, intent on taking me down with a tackle.

Anticipating his move, I reacted quicker. I'll make sure he regrets this whole twisted lunacy. He'll wish he left of his own steam.

Part two will be up in a couple days.