Things get a bit hairy during Nene and Polka's photo shoot

Hololive's Nene Momosuzu and Omaru Polka play Rust.

Original stream: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eXC2IQFcHMY

@MomosuzuNene @OmaruPolka
The rain never lets up. The alleyways of this city were covered in a layer of slime three-inches thick. Trash stacked high as a man’s hip littered the intersections. Every other building was a den of sin or a dive bar. Under the dull neon lights of one such fine establishment was a steel door, bolted shut from the inside. A figure in a trench coat stood in the entrance, her fedora pulled down over her large foxlike ears. She reached a hand inside her coat as if to make sure something hidden in its liner was still in place. She raised her other hand and tapped the door with her knuckles three times. A slit in the door slid open, and a pair of emerald-green eyes glared out at her.

“Password?”

The figure outside paused. “Do I really have to say it?”

“I won’t open this door unless you do.”

The figure shifted on her feet. She slouched and then stood up straight and resolute. “Kira kira kintama kinyoubi.”

The door opened. A young woman with pinkish blonde hair greeted her with a giddy smile.

“You got the goods, Polka?”

“Yeah, I got the goods.” Polka stepped in out of the rain. The interior was well-lit, the décor reminiscent of the inside of a giant peach. A single desk sat on the far side of the room, supporting a PC, monitor, and some kind of streaming set up. “You’ve done well for yourself, Momosuzu.”
“What can I say?” she said, flicking her hair so hard it made a sharp crack, like a bullwhip. “My services are in high demand.”

“Oh? And what might those be?”

Momosuzu blinked at her. “What might what be?”

Polka blinked back. “Your services.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” She strode past her. “Bring out the pictures already. I’m very busy. I haven’t mentioned this, but my services are in high demand.”

This lunacy made Polka feel like she was back in the circus for a moment. She grit her teeth and shut her eyes until the feeling passed. She followed Momosuzu to her desk and pulled out an envelope from her coat and tossed it on the desktop. “Help yourself.”

Without hesitation, Momosuzu snatched up the envelope, all but inhaled it, let her eyes roll back in her head for a moment, then exhaled with such force that the envelope flapped like a flag in the wind. She tore it open and brought out a series of Polaroids and held them as though she were holding a hand of cards. “Oh,” she groaned. “These are good.”

“I thought you’d like them.”

“Is this…?” Momosuzu ran a sleeve over her chin to wipe away the drool. “Is this a Japanese Rhinoceros beetle wearing a tutu?”

Polka nodded.

“And this… Is this a tarantula hawk laying its eggs in the abdomen of a paralyzed tarantula so that its young can eat it alive from the inside and then burst from its hollow husk of a body fully grown and ready to perpetuate its horrific reproductive cycle on further unfortunate arachnids?”

Polka tried to swallow but her mouth had gone dry. “Uh huh.”

“And is this—”

“Can you just pay me so I can get out of here?” snapped Polka. “I don’t care much for bugs.”

Momosuzu lowered the Polaroids. “What did you just say?”

“I said I’m not good with bugs, is all.” Something in the air prompted her to take a step closer to the door. “It’s not that unusual. A lot of people aren’t that keen about them.”

“I’m going to count down from five.”

“What?”

“And when I reach zero,” said Momosuzu, putting the pictures down, “I’m gonna go full tarantula hawk on your ass.”

Polka was several blocks away long before Momosuzu reached zero. Eventually, she stopped running and leaned against the grimy brick wall of a rundown building, panting. She looked up into the ash-coloured sky.

Suddenly the circus didn’t seem so bad.
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