Satsuki's Legacy

"Make it a rum and coke," Yoka told the bartender. This was a dive bar. The crowd was all supernatural creatures--there wasn't a human in the room. A centaur was taking shots of the tail of a dragon who wasn't in human form. A werewolf lay on the floor in full wolf form, the black vest on him reading SECURITY.

"She was on the island?" Yoka asked. "At any time? I mean, Cynthia, think about it. The possibilities for vengeance are endless. What would you do to her if you could?"

Yoka giggled.

It wasn't a laugh. It was a giggle. She was like a school girl right now, perched on the edge of her barstool, sipping a martini that the bartender dropped into her hand. One of the regulars, a cat walking on his hind legs and wearing cowboy boots, was strumming on a guitar.

"Do you know my illusions aren't just visual?" Yoka asked Cynthia. "I can have her house shaking. I can have it rumbling and have planes fly overhead. I can have think there's a bomb dropped right in her kitchen. But the real question, Cynthia, is what kind of pie are we throwing in her face?"

Yoka giggled again and reached over and pushed Cynthia gently on the shoulder.

"Girl, you are absolutely wild," she said. "I love it."

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and, with some trouble, managed to type in Places to Buy Pomegranate on Manta Carlos Islands.

Yoka couldn't actually figure out what it said because the words were annoying blurry. Her ears flattened against her head in frustration and she bared her fangs at the phone. Damn thing.

"There has to be some place in the underground that sells them. They're popular in sex magic," Yoka said. "We can get them, make a pie, and then slam it in Bitch McTits's face."

Yoka had already forgotten their targets name, but not what she and Cynthia were going to do to Bitch McTits.

She looked up as though suddenly remembering something and said, "Where are we on that giant robot?"

“Oh, that’s a good point,” Yoka said. She wrinkled her nose and then wiggled it as she pictured a Mecha in some ugly color or, worse, a print. Imagine a plaid mecha. Yuck!

She was turning on her bar stool in small circles, amused by her ability to do so, and she gave Cherry a wide smile. “Okay. So we’re going to need to go to the grocery store down by the pier. We might have to break in. Have you ever committed a crime before, Cynthia?”

Yoka's eyebrows lifted so high that they disappeared beneath her bangs.

"Cynthia "Cherry Bomb" newell," Yoka drew out her name in a long breath and said, fanning her hands excitedly. "You do the kinder eggs? Do you have any idea how hard they are to get down here?"

Yoka had been an opium trader before it was illegal. She'd sold her share of things and what was legal today might be illegal tomorrow, but nothing had ever held as high as a black market price as Kinder eggs.

"Hot damn girl you are just full of surprises," she said. "Bartender, another drink for my lovely friend please. Cynthia, drink up, we've got pomegranites to buy!"