The maroon 1980 Toyota van was the only stable possession of Tessa May. She didn't have a closet or a dishwasher or even a bed. She only had a van that only turned over if it wasn't raining. It was Max's too, but Tessa had bought it some twelve years ago from a phone number plastered on it's side. It had sat in the sun by the highway for a little over three weeks before she saw it. It was dented along it's body and it smelt a bit like a pub. She had bought it for three grand, and then some in repairs. Max would endlessly berate Tessa for her choice in vehicle and would not pass any opportunity to idly criticise its ugly appearance or it's sticky gear box. But Tessa knew she secretly loved it, loved the way it hummed when they drove it over 60 k's an hour, loved it when they had to use the momentum of their bodies to drive it up a hill, and loved the smell of the dusty floor mats pressed up close to her face when they slept in the back.
If that was Tessa's one true possession, Max's would have to be an extraordinary weapons collection that they kept concealed in the hollowed out section under the boot. Max had in her collection very few guns as they were hard to come by, a variety of knives and machetes, and one very special sword which Tessa suspected was just for show as she'd never seen Max use it. They also had a large amount of very strange things. Drums made of animal skins, herbs and dried berries in leather bags, boxes of salt, fire lighters, powdered crystals, bones, feathers, locks of hair and an excessive amount of books. Books that were thick and old, rotting and covered in dust, books bound in leather with brown pages and embossed spines. To any average person, looking inside this van would be terrifying. One might assume they were dangerous people, murders perhaps. Or maybe something even darker, devil worshipers, witches? If you were to assume that, and a fair assumption that would be, Tessa would probably laugh at you and at herself. Max would probably say something like 'Mate, we ain't witches. Witches fear us.' At this point you would probably be even more fearful, and rightly so. But then Tessa would offer to make you a cup of tea and Max would light a little fire to cook you some pork sausages and they would talk to you well into the night and tell you stories of the things they've seen. About all the monsters they've slain, about all the people they've saved. They'd tell what it was like to be a hunter.
