(Tw for gore and slight body mutilation. So you don't have to read all of it, Vagabond has killed Ammon, and has removed all of his flesh from his skull seemingly peeled it away to reveal the skull. This is his calling card. Note that there is a faint scent of Rosebloods near the corpse)

One could say that he was desensitized when it came to the aspect of gore and death. He had lost count of how many people that he had killed back in the day. Now, he wasn't even sure if those that he did kill thinking that it was for the best was actually right. They could have been innocent as far as he knew, and yet the organization didn't care and refused to tell him the answers that he did want. It pissed him off just thinking about it that innocent was blood on his hands, but he also knew that now he was probably far too gone for anyone of the likes of him to save. He had joined the gang before he died and worked with them for around as long as he had worked with the organization, not exactly that long but it was close enough. They grew close to one another, and wouldn't let each other just die or get captured if they could help it. All of them were strong in their own ways, but there were even scenes where Vagabond could be seen gagging at them. He had seen the horrid things that other rival gangs would do in order to try and get their attention. He remembered seeing bodies hanging from lampposts with their guts hanging out. Not only that, they would usually have carvings on their body to show exactly who had done that and that they weren't welcome there. When he first saw a corpse like that, it took everything that he had to keep from vomiting. Rotting corpses was one of the quickest ways to have him filled with nothing but disgust. The scent of rotting flesh, while he was a human, was probably the most horrid smell that anyone in their life could ever subject themselves to. One thing that pissed him off the most was if rival gangs started using children to get their point against. What sick fucks attacked children and killed them? It made absolutely no sense to him, and he would talk with the rest of the crew and request that they show him how fucked the really were provoking them like that. Despite being a killer himself, killing the law and other rival gangs, he would never think about killing a child.

That was far too cruel in his mind. Vagabond already knew how dangerous it was to live in a gang infested area if someone wasn't careful and pissed off the wrong person. The last thing that a child should worry about is walking home safe, only to be killed by a gang member that wanted to get their point across. It was a waste of a life in Vagabond's mind. So what did he think about killing adults? In the beginning, he didn't like the idea of killing, before it basically became his job. Taking out henchman after henchman for the organization that he had worked for. It was nice to at least have a gun because it meant that he wouldn't have to end up getting that close to kill them and he could do it from a distance. It helped him out in the beginning, but now the thought of death didn't really change any of his emotions. It was almost like clockwork, which probably showed that he had a little bit of a problem, to say the least. The Hellhound had seen plenty of men fall and die to his blades or his weapons. This was no different, it was just this time that it was a large wolf or whatever the other guy was. The former human watched as the canine started to smile up to him, and rasped out words. His own grin spread across his facial features, but Ammon would never be able to see his teeth and the last thing he would see was the black skull mask on his face. The guy was certainly right that he wasn't sorry. He really wasn't. He felt a little bit bad that he had just killed a blind guy, but it was for the best. "You've got me there." Vagabond would almost say innocently as he shrugged his shoulders. His vivid blue eyes would move away from the other's body that was bleeding out to see if there was anyone that was coming, but from the looks of it, there wasn't. The wolf was definitely taking his sweet time to die, causing Vagabond to raise one of his paws and scratch the side of his neck, similar in the way a dog would. He listened to the other's words, and he let a low huff escape his jaws. Vagabond had no idea that death usually wasn't final in a world like this, and instead, animals were capable of coming back to life and reincarnating. "Fat chance" Vagabond muttered under his breath, raising one of his paws to touch the corpse of the wolf. It didn't move, and there was no pulse coming from the neck he had driven the knife into.

Time to get to work. He lifted his mask slightly so that his bottom jaw was visible. He opened his mouth and let the hilt of a throwing knife land in his mouth as he turned the others head in an appropriate angle. The eyes were usually the first to go as they got in the way all of the time. The former human would put the tip of the blade to the edge of the eye socket of the wolf, and begin to follow the eye socket around until he came around full circle. Once he dug out the sides of the eye, he would drive his knife underneath to sever the optical nerve and pull the eye out. He didn't bother with the flesh as he basically threw it over his shoulder. He did the exact same with the other eye before parting the jaws of the slowly cooling corpse. Nothing interesting in the mouth except for the tongue, and he had to break the jaw a little bit with his weight so that he could open it far enough to cut the tongue out at the base. Vagabond threw the tongue away just the same, and then came the carving part. His paws were already covered with blood at this point, as he drove the knife up through the bottom jaw of the animal, as there was only a soft palette for the bottom jaw. He sheared the flesh around that area, kicking any muscle that fell further into the sand. The sound almost was similar to carving a steak from the bone, the knife grating against the muscle and tendons that held certain structures together. He was trying to keep everything in one piece so that it seemed like he was peeling all of it back as if he had just skinned the animal in one go. The skull wouldn't be stark white as he works, as the other's blood would drip across the skull. He cut off the wolf's nose as it was just cartilage, leaving the nasal cavity open with the rest of his skull. As he neared the base of the neck, he would occasionally pull at the flesh to skin the muscle easier, before folding the carved flesh over the back of the neck. He had basically defaced the corpse, leaving just the skull showing and few markings on the other's limbs in general. Blood dripped from his blade, which he quickly cleaned it off on his arm. He had to take care of his equipment as there wasn't exactly a store nearby that he could go to to get supplies if one of his knives broke. He flicked one of his ears as he sheathed the blade back onto the sash he wore across his chest. From there, the Hellhound would put his mask full on again. There was no point in cleaning up a little better. A low sigh escaped his jaws as he began to walk back from the way he came, looking over his shoulder only once. Paw prints were left in the sand as he left, and he went back to the Rosebloods to clean his gear.