Is that even a thing? Who: NPC hunters Chiyoko & Erika. What: Discussing a target. When: February 2nd, evening. Where: Las Vegas. Rating: Mid - Language.
The bar was surprisingly packed for a Tuesday night. Chiyoko wasn’t particularly thrilled. The Japanese hunter, newly arrived in the States, preferred someplace quiet to spend her time. Her companion, a young blonde with a fiery disposition, however, was much more inclined to go to the busiest places imaginable. She claimed the noise made it easier to talk business without notice but Chiyoko called bullshit on that excuse. The woman just wanted to drink and party.
Honestly, how she ended up stuck with her she'd never know or understand. The woman was loud, obnoxious, and, she had come to find since their arrival to the city of sin, unnecessarily cruel. She was quick, efficient; less time dealing with a creature the better. Erika, however, preferred to prolong the process, taunting the target like a cat would its prey. Honestly, she found the whole thing disgusting and rarely stuck around to witness the other woman's 'play time,' as she called it.
"So there is a were about," Erika announced, downing her glass of whatever concoction she had made the bartender create with little grace. Liquid escaped down her chin - revolting.
The red wine Chiyoko was nursing swirled as she tipped the glass idly. “Oh. Really. Please. Tell me more,” came the reply, dripping with sarcasm and apathy.
The other woman glared. “God, you’re a bitch.” It wasn’t the first time she was given that lovely title. In fact, she was pretty sure had addressed her with it more than her actual name. Of course, that didn’t stop her from talking to her. Unfortunately. “Anyway. A were. Little thing apparently, or so the guy claimed.” She waved to the bartender to get her another glass. “Said something about a raccoon.”
Chiyoko’s interest was immediately piqued. “A were-raccoon?” She had never heard of such a thing before. Scavengers were not typically the kinds of animals traditional weres transformed into. Wolves, cats, birds of prey - those were more likely. “Never heard of one.” A rare kind of species? Intriguing.
“Me either. Almost think he was just pulling my leg. He seemed pretty insistent though even after I hit him around a bit.” Erika leaned back in her chair, smirking proudly, as if beating up an informant was something to be proud of. Chiyoko rolled her eyes. How unnecessary. “Anyway, seems he hangs around the strip doing magic shows.”
Chiyoko’s brow rose. “Interesting pastime,” she commented. Magic, raccoon. She was beginning to wonder if perhaps this wasn’t a rare species after all. “Appearance?”
Erika shrugged her shoulders. “A raccoon, duh.” She let out a laugh as if she made the funniest joke in the world. “But nah. Short, black hair. Asian of some sort.”
Ah shit, Chiyoko thought with annoyance. This new information didn’t please her. It wasn’t a rare species they were dealing with at all; it was a tanuki. The ignorant often mistaken the creature for a raccoon due to their similar fur patterns. This wasn’t good. Wasn’t good at all. As annoying as the supernatural variation of the animal could be at times, they were generally left alone by hunters back home. Their presence brought wealth and good fortune; killing them was seen as bad luck by most.
But that was in Japan. A tanuki overseas did not have the benefit of cultural beliefs to keep it safe. Which meant this wayward creature was at risk of meeting its end and, worse, at the hands of the psychopath sitting next to her. There was no way in hell she was going to let that happen; she couldn’t afford any more bad luck.
The Japanese woman took a sip of her wine. “Hm... sounds interesting. Worth a look.”
Erika slapped her on the back enthusiastically, nearly causing her to spit out her drink from the force. “Knew a bitch like you couldn’t resist something different.” She once again downed her nearly arrived toxic concoction. “He shows up on Friday and Saturday nights mostly. Sometimes Sunday. Figure we stake it out, then BAM-” She hit her fist into her other hand for emphasis, smile wicked. “- we strike. Should be fun.”
Chiyoko’s eyes dropped to her drink, mental gears turning “Yeah. Fun.” Fuck.