// lil timeline explanation: this thread takes place before zjarr visits the tanglewood junkyard!!

The question rattled in his mind still: What was the point of this?

The nights of solitude in which he relieved himself of his nocturnal hunting duties were spent within the Pitt's borders, taking time to himself to lay down, meditate, relax himself. At first, the opportunity to rest in a home that was truly his was a complete blessing, and he often found himself bounding up the tree that his house was positioned in and crashing onto his makeshift bed. With these nights off came a newfound sense of vulnerability, something that felt harmless at first, but it soon began to trouble him, filling him with a consuming worry. The more time he had to himself between his hunts, the more time he had to reflect on the very nature of them, something he simply wasn't accustomed to.

Closing his eyes and hiding from the world around him gave him little comfort ever since his Blooding. No matter where he went, for as long as his eyes were shut, he saw the outline of the deceased canine, trembling and nervous, living in fear of him.

you'll take care of me, jack

"Still with us, buddy?"

Blackjack found himself among the torn trees of the ravaged jungle just beside his treehouse again, the military cap-toting Siberian husky staring at him in understandable confusion. "S-Sorry. Yes. Where were we?" he stammered, shaking his head as he spoke. He had met with this dealer, a husky named Zjarr, who had promised him a weapon to use for his hunts. Rather than deal with the turmoil within his mind, Blackjack wanted to focus on improving himself, getting stronger, being well equipped. A professional blacksmith was a good start.

The husky swiped a pink tongue across his lips before opening the brown satchel that was slung across his muscular red-and-white body, pulling out two jet-black holsters of sorts with equally dark leather straps — dark enough to match the feline's own obsidian-black fur. "We're looking at these, sir. Some fine blades that eject themselves and tuck themselves away on command. There's a switch for it 'round here. Watch." He ran a white digit across the back of one of the holsters, eventually producing a relatively mute click. Instantaneously a gleaming, incredibly sharp blade, no larger than maybe four inches in length, was produced from the depths of the holster before being retracted back in with another click as operated by the arms dealer. To Blackjack, this was nothing but fascinating.

"How does it work with the straps on?" he asked, eyeing the merchandise curiously. The hidden blades, as the dealer informed him, were intended to be placed upon the bearer's forearm when in use.

"You'll have to do some maneuverin' with your dew claw," Zjarr responded. "Nothin' too complicated. Just be sure to apply enough force to activate the switch — the thing ain't too sensitive so to avoid any, ah, unpleasant incidents, heh." He glanced up at the jaguar. "Better if ya feel it for yourself. Care for a test run?"

The Skald shrugged in reply. It couldn't hurt to get a better understanding of the equipment. "Let's do it." The husky slid over the two holsters, and Blackjack took a moment to adjust the straps onto both forearms one at a time to ensure that they were tight enough. Sure enough, he felt the switch further up on his paw, around where the dealer said he would. Moving just his dew claw was a fairly arduous process, so he opted for a slight movement of the rest of his paw to better facilitate the motion required to activate the switch and expose the blades beneath. Quickly he bent his paws, and...

A flash of light and a distinct bzzt.

Both him and the dealer jumped in response, neither of them expecting what had just happened. The fur stood up on his paws in response to the static electricity that buzzed around him, which now had sharp blades pressed next to them, ready to be used. "Shit, man! Does that usually happen?" Zjarr exclaimed, arching an eyebrow at Blackjack and chuckling softly, clearly more entertained than appalled.

"...No. This...this does not happen," the jaguar said, golden eyes wide as he stared at his paws in sheer disbelief. He felt the presence of a strange, alien force running through him, something that he had never felt before. A new power, one that he hadn't even thought himself as being capable of. How did this happen? Not once had his mother or father, nor any of his siblings, displayed such a feat, but then again, his memories of his childhood were not exactly vivid. He was left to figure out this phenomenon alone.

Zjarr seemed to not particularly care about this discovery to the extent that Blackjack did, instead opting to get back to business as soon as possible. "Okay! Cool! So, uh, what are your thoughts on the product?"

Blackjack nodded, still primarily in his awestruck stupor. "Good! Very good! What next?"

"I'm glad y'like 'em! Some real gems, they are. Ah, I believe payment is next, huh? You saw what I got for ya, now whaddaya got for me?"

Payment. Shit. Did he have anything worth giving? All he had were his bones (which he couldn't give away as per Pittian tradition) and Oscuro, who was peering out from his perch and watching the two complete their transaction. Maybe he didn't think this through as well as he could've. "I'll be frank with you, sir. All I've got is some bones and my bird. I'm new here and have little to my name. But I'm sure we can work things out, can we not?" he mused with a beaming smile upon his maw, hoping that Zjarr would understand his plight.

The dealer was not particularly amused, a newfound scowl across his face. "Buddy, those blades are costly to make, and I ain't got all too many materials 'n' shit to work with," he growled. "I ain't come to this hot-ass shithole for nothin'."

Blackjack took a moment to process the canine's words. He was a busy smith, and smiths needed a surplus of metals and other crafting materials in other to make their desired products. Maybe he had nothing to offer the husky now, but words could go quite a long way, as he had learned in his own bounty hunting endeavors. "Whatever I cannot give you now, let me make up for it in words. I know of a place where you can get more items to use for crafting. Heed these words and take my answer as payment," he said. Granted, he didn't know much about this aforementioned place, but he did know it existed...just within another group's borders, according to an old client of his. Turns out that information from so long ago would prove useful, just not directly to him.

The husky cocked an eyebrow. "Where?"

"Go south of here, past the Neutral Grounds until the earth is damp and the air is humid. You'll find a junkyard with piles of metal the size of mountains. Believe me, you will find what you need there." He had chased down a target to this swamp and passed the yard, though he didn't bother going inside and exploring its contents. He just assumed it would be enough to appease the blacksmith.

Zjarr eyed the feline for a moment as if to consider his words, and finally he nodded with some hesitation. "I'll accept this, but just this once. 'n' if I find out you've been deceivin' me, I'll come back for your fuckin' head and parade it around as my own trophy." He offered a grin and extended out a paw. "Deal?"

The pressure lifted from Blackjack's chest, and he returned the grin, lifting his own black paw, but not before clicking the switch again to tuck his blades away. "Deal," he said, taking the canine's paw into his.

A jolt of electricity passed into his paw and up his forearm, and the same evidently happened to the husky, who yanked back his arm abruptly. He merely laughed at the matter. "Fucker! You take care."

And in the blink of an eye, Zjarr was gone, leaving Blackjack to experiment with his new toys by his lonesome.