//tw for some gore (not discussed in explicit detail)

The desert was scorching hot and bright.

The morning sun beat upon his body as it climbed into the sky, bringing light upon the earth and illuminating even the darkest of nooks and crannies amongst the mountainous dunes. The maroon spatters of now-dried blood decorating his obsidian black paws was far more visible in the light — a reminder of his last bounty, along with the waterskin made of goat's skin that was slung over his shoulder and onto his side as he marched onward.

Blackjack's most recent hunt had taken him to this unforgiving place. He had been summoned by a cave-dwelling lone coyote on the outskirts of the desert that demanded an old friend-turned-enemy's head — a story he had heard many times now from a diverse variety of tongues. There were many that were pushed to their limit by some unfortunate soul, enough to call upon an outside force to intervene. In all honesty, with some of the stories he had been hearing, he couldn't entirely blame them. And even if he did blame them, it's not like he had any place to judge them for it. He was not the judge nor the jury, only the executioner.

The loner had promised him "vital tools for the desert" if he would succeed in his hunt. Though Blackjack was unsure as to how often he would frequent the vast expanses of sand and heat, he accepted the offer regardless, for he felt that it was better to be prepared than to refuse and suffer the consequences of one's false assumptions later. The horned jaguar departed from the loner's cave at dusk, when the sun began to melt away and offer temporary relief from its blazing wrath. He would walk in the direction he was pointed to for a while, for the loner had informed him that his enemy resided some distance across the desert, yet close enough to warrant worry of attack.

After some time navigating through the desert, Blackjack called upon the abilities of his dear friend. "Oscuro, búsquelos." Find them. The jet-black raven croaked briefly to him in response before taking to the skies, venturing out on his quest as Blackjack waited for him to return. Oscuro dived amongst the dunes and disappeared for a moment, only to resurface minutes later in the skies, cawing loud enough for the reclined Blackjack to notice him. The jaguar rose to his paws, watching his familiar circle an area just below the dune before him, and scaled the dune, looking down and just barely making out an obscured cave entrance. He whistled, and the raven returned to his side once more. "Buen trabajo," he whispered to the bird. Good work.

He inched forward, his paws prickling with excitement as he approached the cave in silence. At the cave's entrance, he found no one inside. Cautiously he looked around, his nose crinkling at the overwhelming smell of the herbs and spices resting in various baskets around the cave, and began to walk in. He heard not a single sound.

The silence was broken when he heard a sharp cry from the corner of the cave and turned to see a cheetah lunging towards him, a gleaming sword dangling from their jaws. Blackjack rolled out of the way and rammed into the cheetah as they passed, knocking the feline over with his sturdy horns. His eyes rested on the blade, carefully maneuvering to avoid its range and the risk of getting sliced or, even worse, getting his throat slit. He waited for the most opportune moment to strike and seized it, slamming his horns against the feline's head and knocking the sword from their grasp. Blackjack took hold of the sword himself and acted quickly, digging the blade into the cheetah's neck and twisting it before pulling it out, watching waves upon waves of blood erupt from the incision, spilling onto the cave floor and into the baskets of intoxicating herbs. The jaguar pulled back, watching the life ebb from his target. It was either his throat or mine, he thought.

He repeated the thought to his client when he returned to the loner's cave by dawn, rolling the cheetah's decapitated head towards the coyote when he arrived. Clearly he had put the other feline's sword to good use.

"AGH! What the hell is that?! You're dirtying up the place! You want your payment or not, you dick?!" the coyote shouted, lashing his tail angrily.

Twitching his ear in annoyance, Blackjack delivered a firm smack across the coyote's muzzle with the back of a blood-stained paw. "You said you wanted his head," he snarled. "Now you will pay me unless you want me to take yours as well."

The coyote spat on the floor next to him, glaring at the jaguar but ultimately complying. He walked over to the corner of the cave and retrieved a waterskin, tossing it towards Blackjack. "It's made of goat's skin. Real resilient stuff. Fill it by the little oasis just outside the cave — it's the purest water, maybe the only water, you'll be finding in this desert for miles. You best ration it well."

Blackjack nodded in thanks and slung the waterskin over his shoulder. As he turned to leave, the coyote spoke again.

"Another thing, Mr. Venturo. There's a...place for people like you 'round here. You familiar with The Pitt?" Blackjack nodded again.

"I am. But I work alone," Blackjack said.

"The Pitt's a very independent place," the coyote replied. "Too rough for my taste, but maybe up your alley. I don't know how long you'll be in the desert, but if you need shelter, they've got plenty. If you, y'know, survive getting in there in the place. You'll know you're there. It's very...distinct."

"I'll see to it," Blackjack remarked before trotting out of the cave, Oscuro landing upon his back and riding along.

You'll know when you're there, the loner had said. Now, with the jaguar facing a wall of stakes with decapitated heads upon them, the words rang in his mind once more. He wasn't particularly intimidated by the wall — for fuck's sake, he had just done the same to some stranger the night before — but rather intrigued by the idea that he had been this close to The Pitt without even realizing it.

Would venturing further into their domain be worth the curiosity he felt now? Normally he would be opposed to taking up arms with a group, but at this moment his paws were undeniably weary and aching from the walking, and his waterskin was already close to depleted. He needed to rest soon, and the desert was more or less impossible to do so in.

"¿Qué te parece?" he said to Oscuro, glancing down at the raven beside him. What do you think? The raven croaked in what Blackjack perceived as a tired manner.

"Yo también," Blackjack replied with a ghost of a smile. Me too. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to investigate The Pitt.

To Blackjack's surprise, it hadn't taken long for not one, but two Pittians to greet him at the border. The wolf came first — a female whose appearance matched that of the sandy dunes and cracking dry rocks of the desert, with a pelt that was colored in an assortment of creams and light browns beneath what seemed to be a purple costume. He had seen animals wear a variety of clothes, though it was more or less a rarity. Perhaps it made more sense in the desert, where the sun alone could blind a man with too much exposure, and something like a hat or the very hood the wolf bore upon her would be quite useful.

At her soft voice, his golden gaze fell upon her and met her own attentive brown eyes. They were curious, wondering, and...perhaps something like discomfort. He watched her throat move slowly in a thick gulp, his expression unchanging but his thoughts racing. Was she afraid of him? What was wrong with her? He was a man of simple interactions, well-adjusted to the emotionless exchanges between himself and his customers; this, unfortunately, made it difficult for him to understand the effect he had on the wolf at that very moment and what about him had pushed her to react in such a manner.

The second arrival mere moments after broke the tension ever so slightly, allowing Jackie to recompose himself and return to business. This next Pittian was a jaguar as himself, black as night with muscles rippling beneath his pelt. Rich golden eyes met icy, intensely bright ones — a key distinction between the two felines next to Jackie's horns. The other panther ran his tongue over his jaws, and involuntarily he mirrored the action, swiping his tongue across his lips. His tongue, unlike the other's, was reptilian in appearance, dark-brown and forked at the end. It was a mutation that contributed to Jackie's unsettling aura. He was a strange beast hailing from some unknown corner of the Earth, after all.

"I mean no harm. I figured that I would find shelter here," Blackjack responded to the two Pittians. His voice was calm, his words delivered in a deep and rich tone, painted by his soft accent that rolled in each syllable. "My name is Blackjack Venturo. This is my...familiar, Oscuro." He tilted his head slightly to the bird beside him as he spoke. The raven made no noise, only looking up at the wolf and the other jaguar and blinking.

The jaguar's focus returned to the Pittians. "Are you taking newcomers?" He had assumed so based on his last client's words of advice for him, but he wanted to make sure while the Pittians seemed surprisingly amiable. The bounty hunter wasn't sure what he was expecting when he showed up at their border, but seeing how his paws continued to ache, he was more than content with the way things were going now.

Newcomers. Yes. Well, yes, that was what he had said, wasn't it? Jackie had waited for the wolf to continue speaking past that, only to be met with a similar silence shortly afterwards. Maybe she just wasn't feeling it today. Maybe she wasn't social at all. He couldn't blame her — he found himself struggling for words as well.

He found a more conversational stranger in the jaguar beside the wolf, who had sent her off for some Olalla character back at their camp. Olalla, a name that Jackie had never heard but could chalk up to the name of a leader based off of the other feline's next few words. If the panther before him was high up in ranks and couldn't accept him, surely Blackjack would become the leader's next issue, that leader perhaps being Olalla. Excitement prickled in his paws, shocking his nerves like bolts of lightning. Would he be meeting the head of The Pitt so early? Of course, Blackjack knew practically nothing about the position of a Skald within The Pitt's hierarchy, and there was a great chance that he could be mistaken, but if his theory was correct, what would happen then? Surely I'm not in over my head, he thought somewhat grimly, but he forced himself to push away his concerns on the matter. Things were going fairly well so far, albeit not incredibly smoothly, and he felt that maintaining his cool in the presence of another Pittian would be a possible feat for him.

It seemed that there were more questions for him to answer in the meantime. Blackjack figured that joining the ranks of The Pitt (even if it was solely for shelter as he intended) would not be nearly as easy as making the simple request, but he wasn't precisely sure what it would have entailed in the first place. Was he meant to study them beforehand, listen to the old tales of their violence and ruthlessness and spit it back out to them? He knew nothing of that. His knowledge of the Island's most prevalent clans and tribes stemmed from those who were willing to share their knowledge with him — the reward of information after a successful hit done for them beforehand. The information he had on The Pitt was limited, but he knew enough to know that they were a brutal bunch and not to be messed with.

"Each member follows their own laws," the horned jaguar finally responded, his rich gaze shifting between the other panther and the soft, quite interesting shadows that swirled around him, crawling between his legs like black snakes. That was, at least, the greatest impression he got of their group. "Help each other, but only each other. It takes great strength and will to survive in this place among you folk. If I hadn't known that, I would not be here." His eyes met the Skald's once more, a certain flair of determination now upon them. He knew that he was no weakling, no future corpse rotting away amongst the dunes. He was a hearty beast, more than enough to take on the challenges of The Pitt.