It hurt, the smoke in his lungs. Fingers outstretched from his one hand, towards the open door of the burning barn. He was stuck, trapped, the skin burnt so bad he couldn't feel it. His eyes were full of tears, sobbing and shaking. He didn't want to go yet. Charley didn't want to go. Where was his brother? Where, in this world, where he could have been otherwise? He wasn't ready to go. The sweet girl up the street- they were supposed to have a date.

But it was too late, too fast. Too bittersweet.

Charley woke up screaming, in the sands of the desert. It was just as roasting hot as it was there. He could see the burnt jungle just past the sands, his breathing unsteady and shoulders tense. His eyes had opened, just as wide as they had been when he was sobbing in the barn. But he wasn't crying now. He was strangely silent. Somber, still. Charley's ears flicked a bit as he pushed himself up, groaning softly. The deep southern accent matched up with his words. "God, what a headache.." He sighed, trying to push himself up to walk on two feet, but instinct took over.

Curses flew from Charley's mouth, the no-longer-biped falling over in a hurry. Four legs, paws? Fur? His body shook for a moment, and he bit his tongue. "Where.. where am I?" He asked, no one in particular. With this in mind, he stood, shakily taking a few steps. He headed towards the burnt jungle, looking away warily.

Caustic's intro to this dimension was just as forceful, unwelcome, and annoying. He had debated the possibility of ending himself, just so that he didn't have to continue in this forsaken reality. It was too much and Caustic was too old for this. He desperately wished to return to his own world, so he could continue his experiment below in the ring. It was a great retirement plan, overall. Continually die and revive, perfecting his magnum opus each time.
The Pitt had been hard on him, though. The lack of food was getting to him, and Caustic had lost an uncomfortable amount of weight. His fur was beginning to tangle in knots, matting in awkward places around his belly. For now, he needed food, anything-
Footsteps. Caustic's green eyes scanned over the desert, locking onto a sheepdog, a cloud of gas releasing from his mouth in a heavy sigh.
"You have found yourself in the Pitt. I am Dr. Caustic."

TAGS • PLAYLIST • PENNED BY OWLIE

The approaching figure made Charley freeze. Fuck, a wolf, in the desert? He had only seen and dealt with coyotes, nothing like this. Charley stepped backwards, his ears pushed down and tail lowered. All instinct, and Charley had no idea he was feigning submission at the first introduction. But, much to Charley's surprise, the wolf spoke. Didn't just speak, spoke to him. And he understood. At first, Charley couldn't believe it, then his eyes blinked slowly. 

"What?" He questioned, the thick southern accent slurring his follows words. "You're.. a doctor?" He almost fell over at the sight of Kydobi. The wolf was easier to handle, but a fucking jaguar. He had only been to zoos long enough to see panthers and all that, but one being face to face with him, and expressing concern with the wolf- didn't he call himself Caustic?- made Charley take another step back. But once he focused on him, Charley's legs sure were frozen in place.

"My.. m' business? I.. uh.." Charley stared for a moment longer. "M'.. m' business..." He stared at Kydobi for a few more moments, his jaw working. What was his business? After he died, he had accepted he'd go up to the Good Place, y'know, heaven n' all that. But noo.. here he was. A dog. In the desert. Talking to a wolf and a jaguar. Charley coughed a few times. "Survival." He managed weakly. "I.. have no fuckin' clue where I am. So uh. Survival."