Ranger's POV

My name is Ricardo Carlos Manoso and I am a Bounty Hunter. My street name is Ranger, and thats what most people call me. A week ago I brought a friend who is very close to me here. She's also a Bounty Hunter. Her name, Stephanie Plum. She has brown curly hair and bright blue eyes. She's average height and weight, unlike me. I'm a little over six foot with long black hair and bulging muscles. Steph says they are at least.

She was tired of getting shot at, blown up and pretty much being defenseless. I brought her here to train her. I plan on it to.

We had been here for a whole week. The first day here we unpacked and I showed her around the facility. It's quite large and was made for this purpose, training. I own the facility, it's where I have new people trained and tested before they can work at Rangeman. It has a pool, gym, track, gun range and of course bedrooms, bathroom, a kitchen and a small multipurpose room.

Steph was doing well, she seemed...off though. She was doing the work and all but it wasn't her natural happy soul. She spoke when spoken too and requested somethings but..I Something was different, off, wrong. There was only one thing that I knew was going on, and that was that she was having some form of PTSD. Nightmares. I could hear her scream out in the night. She's be rolling around and the next thing I knew there was a scream and then sobbing. I had gone in there once but she just acted like there was nothing wrong and asked if it was time to start. I tried getting her to talk but it's like she got more silent everyday. Better at avoiding the question.

It was after hours of a sort. We trained all day but we had a certain hour we stopped doing the routine work. Up at five, then an hour run, half hour break then half hour breakfast. An hour for hand to hand, learning about guns, practice, by then it would be ten. From ten to lunch at noon it was physical endurance, weight lifting and push ups. She needed extra help in that area, it was also the hardest for her because she was less...muscular.

After an hour lunch an hour more of guns, then an hour of martial art, knifes, and from three to four it was smaller things like B&E and loosing a tail. Four was like the end of the day. It was time to clean up before dinner at five.

The end of the prologue...R&R

Peanut