#Wyatt Hunt | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bountyhaunter · 3 months ago

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TIMING: Early august, before Daiyu got injured. PARTIES: @loftylockjaw & @bountyhaunter LOCATION: 12 Mudpuppy Point SUMMARY: Remember when Daiyu saved Wyatt's location for later use? She's come to collect. CONTENT: None

There was something very strange about a lamia living so close to her. Relatively close, of course, as the homes in the Pines were scattered and it wasn’t quite like they’d be invited to the same neighborhood barbecue, but still — Daiyu was able to simply start her trek from her own home and walk in the direction of the location pin she’d saved a while back. All in all it was a nice walk, deceptively peaceful as a breeze passed through the trees and the sun shone brightly. She almost found herself humming a song — almost.

It was a strange hunt, this one. The lamia she was after was a pretty funny guy, after all, and it sucked entirely that he’d made her laugh online. Still, the prize connected to his bounty was louder than whatever hesitation she felt, especially now that she'd lost the steady income the Good Neighbors had brought. It was easy, if you removed your heart: Wyatt the lamia would supply most of her rent for the month.

She was observing the other from her bushes, not a large fan of this battleground but not feeling too badly either. It seemed he had a well-stocked kitchen, so maybe she’d be able to get something more out of this — though that wasn’t her most pressing issue. The lamia was splayed out in the sun, reptilian skin baking in the rays. It was large. Really large. The bounty listing had failed to mention that. Daiyu had expected a large alligator, not a fucking dinosaur-esque creature.

But a challenge was always met. It also felt a little less shitty to ambush someone in their home when they were in their literal, man-eating monster form. So she aimed her crossbow from her bush and shot one of her bolts towards the other, wanting to get his calf so she’d immobilize him.

—

It was tummy time, now that the weather had swung in the direction he preferred—hot and humid, thanks to all the rainstorms lately. He was laying on his back on the dock attached to his property, tail flopped over the side and draped in the cool lakewater. His posture was similar to that of a dog’s, legs and arms half-folded and hovering in the air above him, the claws of his hands and feet flexing slowly like a cat making biscuits as he enjoyed the heat of the sun on his slightly softer underside.

Then there was a weird noise, one he wasn’t familiar with. His head jerked to one side, but before he could make sense of anything, there was pain ripping through his leg. The lamia roared angrily, flipping himself quickly over and into the water. The splash was sizable, and Wyatt used the dock as cover as he tried to figure out where the fuck that had come from. His yellow eyes scanned the bushes lining the property, but he didn’t see anything. Relying on his heat vision instead, he quickly located the intruder. Rage boiled just beneath the surface but the lamia stayed where he was, waiting for them to move first and show themselves. They wouldn’t be able to outrun him once he started the chase.

—

Well, that was unfortunate. Daiyu watched as the alligatorian creature dropped into the water with a large splash. He fell out of her line of sight as ripples spread and though sure, she had hunted in water before, she wasn’t exactly thrilled about shooting her precious bolts into the water where they’d all sink. Never mind that aiming was made considerably harder when water played tricks on her eyes.

For a moment it seemed they were staring at each other, yellow eyes aimed at the bush she was in and she peering back through the branches. She was reminded of the crocodile in Peter Pan and wondered if that made her captain Hook — she wouldn’t mind a pirate ship of her own, in all truth. Even if it made her the villain. (Arguably the crocodile was a villain also, though.)

But she had no ship and so she inched forward after placing another bolt onto her bow. She moved to her full (not very impressive) height and took aim, head popping out of the branches as she shot her bolt, this time aiming for the space right between the two unnatural yellow eyes.

—

Holding still, Wyatt looked for all the world like a log in the lake. If you discounted the eyes, of course, which his attacker had not. He watched as they popped up out of the brush, and felt his throat constrict. Daiyu? Aw, man… He’d liked her, and she was a fuckin’ ranger? Of course she was. His life was nothing if not a cosmic goddamn joke. She stood, took aim, and fired again. The gator closed his eyes and dipped his head underwater, which meant the bolt missed his head, but instead buried itself painfully in his back.

He thrashed, knocking against the legs of the dock as the water around him turned red. Fuck, fuck. Whatever that thing had been tipped with was enough to get through his tough natural armor, which he now realized he might rely too heavily on. He’d never been hunted by a ranger that ever had the upper hand before. With a loud hiss, the shifter scrambled toward the lake’s edge and out of the water on two legs, his nine foot stature somewhat diminished as he hunched over in pain.

“Goddamn, woman! You eat lunch with a guy n’ repay him like this?!” he hollered, dropping onto all fours and letting out another agonized groan that sounded a bit like a roar. “The fuck did I do to you?!”

—

Her family was naturally predisposed to hunt lamia. It made sense, in a way. Cold blooded creatures going after cold blooded creatures. Never mind the way Daiyu had been convinced as a child that her family was cursed, too, just as those of lamia's were … and admittedly that belief had never truly faded. Her family's curse made it so that this was her method of income, which was much better than being cursed to be a big alligator who had to eat humans whole. Not even she, with her insatiable appetite, was curious about how humans tasted.

This was the order of things: the bolt whizzing towards him, family traditions or curses making Wyatt and her opposing chess pieces. It ripped through its leathery hide and she felt the rush of satisfaction that came with hitting a target, even if she had failed to hit him properly. A lethal shot between the eyes would make all this easier and faster, but alas.

So in stead the dinosaur-esque creature yelled in that very human voice, referencing the meal they'd shared at the strange sandwich club. “It's more about what you did to others, though I guess they're too dead and digested to talk to you about it now,” she retorted, loading another bolt on her crossbow, “People really want you dead for that.” This was a little bit like Jurassic Park, she figured. “Willing to pay a little penny for it. You should be more picky with your dinners, I guess.”

—

What in the hell was she talking about? Sure, yeah, he ate people — but this seemed specific. Targeted. Someone had put a bounty on his head? He would have felt proud if not for the bolt buried in his back.

… okay, no, he still managed to feel the pride as it acted as a slight balm against the pain.

Think, Barlow. Who did you eat that would have people bold enough — and in the know enough — to sic a hunter on you? Wyatt held out a clawed hand. “Hang on, hang on! Just… who's payin’ the reward, ah? I can pay you more to leave me be and get rid of that postin’.” That was… only kind of true. Depended on how much it was, really. He might have to do some back-to-back fights in order to pay it off all at once, but that was better than dying, right? Right. “I eat bad people, yanno.” Another half-truth. “I…” He was stalling, trying to remember past meals. The only one he could think of that might have the cajones for it and would know that he was the one that'd eaten someone they knew was… fuck. That idiot he let get away. The ones attacking Finn. Of course this was the penance the universe saw fit for helping fuckin’ Finn out.

—

Though Daiyu knew it was easier to not argue with her hunting targets, she was very bad at not doing it. It was hard, to be cursed with a mouth that ran miles around most others. Maybe all the action movies with bad dialogue were to be blamed.

But she was rendered speechless for a moment. Not because Wyatt was talking about only eating bad people – this was a classic thing shifters said when backed into a corner – but the thing he said about paying her the reward. What a strange offer. The bolt clicked in place and she straightened to her full height (which was usually unimpressive, but especially so compared to the lamia).

Bounty hunting was straightforward and she liked it because of it. You hunted something. Delivered proof of success. Got your bag. Didn't look back. There was no need for trying to find the bad ones or the deserving ones, there was just the money. Money talked. Just like Wyatt talked.

It was weak to admit that there was a part of her that was conflicted. It was not a permissible emotion, after all. But it was conflicting, when the person you were trying to murder was not only a target, but a really funny guy. And to Daiyu, being funny was a very important quality in others, as life needed embellishment and good distraction. She cocked her head slightly, looking like a confused dog. Confused, that was better than conflicted. “That's … confidential. But they're willing to blow a thousand green dollars on you,” she said, “Can you overbid 'em?”

—

A thousand? Fuck's sake. He'd already eaten through most of his savings, but he had about half of that ready to go. And he needed to pay her more than that, otherwise why should she bother? He was already playing a shittier hand, having to ask her to wait to collect. It needed to be worth it.

“I'll double it if you give me some time to get it together,” Wyatt groaned, sinking to the ground, the throbbing pain from the foreign object lodged so close to his spine becoming too much to bear. “I'm good for it. Work in a fighting ring. Can take on more dangerous opponents, earn more money. Just need… some time.” He was quiet for a moment, the only sound his labored breathing. As much as he hated to ask for help… “I'll throw in an extra five hundred if you pull this thing out for me,” he offered, unsure if he'd have the strength to make it to Masami with this bolt still stuck where it was.

—

If she were a better hunter or Volkov she'd not hesitate a moment longer and pull the trigger, making use of the immobilized state of the lamia and ending its life. But Daiyu wasn't a very good Volkov and no one could agree what made a good hunter anyway, so she disregarded it. At the end of the day, she was a bounty hunter. She'd just found a better bounty.

And Wyatt said something mildly alarming. Fighting ring. She remembered the Grit Pit with great clarity, as well as the way she'd kicked up a mild storm there before storming out herself. If she were a good Volkov, she'd see the potential in this large beast, but she wasn't. She just felt distaste. Remembered twitchy Felix and her own complicated feelings. “I can do two thousand,” she said, lowering her crossbow. It seemed Wyatt was set on making weird requests. Asking your assaillant to help with the injury she gave you was … well, strange. Did he have no pride? Was he so destitute? Pathetic was a fitting word, if she was speaking in the language of her family. Another option was that he was just trying to lure her closer so he could sink those teeth in her flesh. If that was the case, Daiyu refused to be scared of a wounded dinosaur. “Alright man, deal.” She disarmed her crossbow and slipped the strap back over her body. As she trudged over, circling around the water and towards the creature. Once she arrived, a knife was in her hand — because she wasn't stupid enough to get killed by her own (former) target. The fingers not occupied by a weapon wrapped themselves around the bolt, “One, two —” She pulled it out before saying three. Like ripping off a band aid when the other least expected it, “Three. There ya go!”

The bolt was tossed into the water, no glance spared at the wound. Daiyu was quick to back off, moving into the cover of the green. “I'll give you four weeks.” Seemed fair enough. “And I know where you live and work now, so don't get smart.”

—

He hadn't considered the fact that she might not want to get close to him, concerned mostly about the fact that he couldn't reach the weapon in his back, and the way it was making his legs start to feel numb. All the same, he was still as she approached, noticing the knife in her hand and figuring it was fair. His mouth was full of them.

Letting out a loud, long hiss of relief as she ripped the bolt out of his flesh, the lamia shuddered and felt the tingling in his limbs and figured it was a good thing. “Much obliged,” he grumbled, not making any attempts to move just yet. Blood seeped from the wound, trickling in small rivers between his scales down his back and sides.

“Four weeks. Got it. You'll have your money. Come here to collect.” He watched her retreat, and it wasn’t until she was out of range completely that he finally lifted himself up off the ground and started to drag himself up the deck stairs. He needed to shift and get dressed, and get his ass to the doc, preferably before bleeding out.

#threads.#wyatt.#bounty hunted.

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