He had to admit, compared to above the canyon, this was a distinct difference when it came the environments around here. The Hellhound had also noticed the fog that seemed to permeate just above the tips of the larger trees, meaning to try and get a vantage point at the edge of the canyon walls would almost be completely impossible. Which sucked for someone like him where he sometimes liked to get at least an idea of what he would be going up against. Although, there were plenty of moments where he was unpredictable in what he wanted to do, especially during some heists that were on his record. Or, were they really on his record any more thanks to the fact that he had probably died and come here? He knew the majority of the crew was killed in action, and the simple thought pissed him off. Despite all of them having been killers, they were still part of the crew, and no one messes with the crew either. He wanted revenge, that much was clear, but he doubted that would ever become a reality thanks to what he was. He was a literal animal. He guessed that one could consider his predicament fitting. Becoming the embodiment of what his enemies usually considered him to be. He had plenty of enemies while he was human, such as the police force and other gangs and crews that wanted them dead when they got too much good luck. They were considered the best of the best, and that meant that they were dangerous. The habit of constantly checking behind him to see if he was being followed didn't stop here, as even after being allowed to take shelter in this place.

Whatever this place was, he couldn't care enough to even remember the damn name. He just needed intel and he was going to get it whether someone liked it or not. Having not eaten in at least three days, he was starting to get hungry, but not hungry enough to the point where he was going to try and hunt an animal. If he had a gun it would be easy, but he didn't exactly have thumbs to help him either. Those that had originally approached him certainly seemed curious about the mask that he wore, and he gave them enough vague information that they would let him in. It was obvious that these animals were somewhat organized, and most organized groups had a lay of the lad and could provide information. He had no intention of helping the likes of them, and if they had anything he needed in the end, he would probably kill them for it. The rainforest did an amazing job in hiding his presence thanks to the shadows that larger trees created. Shadows were safe in Vagabond's mind, and he would stick to them as much as possible. Thanks to his large size, he wasn't as silent as he used to be in his combat boots, but it was good enough as long as he kept his distance. As he was passing a waterfall, he stopped midstep when he saw a figure by said waterfall. He lowered his head and turned to look in the direction of the animal, to get a better idea what it was.

He was able to see slightly through the vegetation coverage around 20ft away from where he was standing. His two tails moved opposite of one another as the metal skull mask he wore hid any features that could possibly be there. He narrowed his blue eyes to figure out what it was, but from this distance, he couldn't exactly tell. He needed to get closer. His body reacted to his instincts and the large beast lowered himself slightly, bristles of grass brushing up against the knives that were held to his chest. The other's back was turned to him, and Vagabond didn't anticipate the other knowing that he was there in the first place. He stopped 10ft away from the animal, and at this distance, he was able to figure out that it was a dog. At least, he thought it was a dog. He didn't know shit about animals. He was a criminal, not a zoologist. Vagabond kept his body somewhat in the shadows, his black fur and scales creating fairly good camouflage. It was as he took in his surroundings that he noticed a bottle that was on the ground next to the canine. It was alcohol. He knew that stuff anywhere. He remembered when the crew would go drinking after the heists that they did to celebrate. The brand was even familiar. This place had alcohol? That was good to know. In the Hellhound's eye, the canine in front of him was just another one that was part of a group that probably knew their way around. Seeing no reason to approach the creature, the Hellhound remained crouched in the shadows, watching the other's every action. Studying.

[member=2839]RIMMY[/member]

Starting over. The thought never really came to mind until the third day that he had arrived in this world. He would stop near a river and look at his reflection and look at what he had ended up becoming. He had once been the good guy. Way before he had even joined the organization itself. It was almost poetic that he had managed to join one of the more prominent gangs in the end, but he had to admit that they were an interesting group. Sure, there were moments where he would enjoy sticking a knife through their throat as not to hear them say another word. Especially some of the more talkative and obnoxious of the group. He was there for the money and to get back at those that had wronged and used him. And being part of the gang was the best option at the time because he could work under the radar and no one will bother to try and question him where he was all the time. He didn't have to constantly be with the group, as he could work alone if he really wanted to. There were a couple faces that he did really well if they went on missions together, and Rimmy was one of them. Vagabond knew why they worked so well together, and there had been a couple of instances that he would try to do bad. Not bad to the point to where he could accidentally get him killed, but not as good as to try and avoid suspicion as to why he worked that well with the rookie in the first place. He didn't work well with anyone when he had joined the gang after all. Vagabond hoped that 'Rimmy' wouldn't be able to figure out who he was, and since the rest of the gang actually didn't know his real name, there wasn't all that much reason to panic.

He just had to keep his distance away from him, but fate had other plans when they were planning one of their biggest heists and they needed everyone there. When he had first been allowed to stay in this place it was described as a dysfunctional family. That was immediately what he thought of from the gang that they had been in. They weren't afraid of beating each other's faces in if one of them got pissed off enough. Vagabond didn't blame him as it was nice to take a swing at those that were annoying or just deserved to get hit. At some point, while he was working with the group, he didn't remember when, but he became comfortable enough to let his guard down a little bit. He knew that they probably wouldn't try something if they knew what was best for them. He was considered one of the more intimidating of the group by sheer skill alone. Although, most of the group could be considered insane and intimidating just by looking at them. Either way, he had ended up falling asleep on a couch in the house that almost all of them lived in. A couple had their own houses that were close by, but it was because of how wanted they were in most places, it was better to be within a couple minutes in between each other if shit hit the fan. He woke up, and he was lucky that his mask was still on, only until he went to go look in the mirror, and there was nothing but stickers plastered across the skull mask. It had taken him a couple of moments to realize what he was seeing thanks to how groggy he was, and when he did, he screamed into the mirror, and he could almost hear the entire house fall silent as he demanded to know who did it. It was one of the crew, and he didn't do anything to hurt him then and there, but he made the other a promise that he was going to repay him back eventually. There were some fun times that happened in the group, whether he liked to admit it or not. They were family. Anyone that messed with them messed with him.

Vagabond thought that the other wouldn't be able to tell that he was there. He barely recognized whatever liquor that he was drinking, he just knew that it was based by the bottle. It was certainly an interesting sight to see the other's tail move in such a way to grasp the battle like it was nothing. He was fairly certain... dog tails couldn't do that. But dogs also didn't have wings either so he couldn't really judge the other. By the time he had arrived in his current spot, he hadn't heard the canine speak at all. Vagabond decided to try his luck and move a little bit closer, but he had no intention of killing the other. The guy could have some important information that he could use for future reference. He was around 6ft away when he stopped near a tree again. His stark blue eyes looking and unwavering. It was when the other spoke, causing Vagabond to tense for a second as the other looked over toward him. The tense body language lasted only a second. The guy was impressive to know that he was here, although it was probably slightly easy to see him in the first place. It was after that second thought, that he was able to recognize the voice and cause him to immediately stand up. He knew that bastards voice anywhere. He stepped out of the shadow for a moment to look at the canines mix-matched eyes, and the cowboy hat on his head. The cowboy hat. He should have fuckin known. "Rimmy fuckin Tim? How in hell are you here?" The question was somewhat vague from Vagabond's lips. How are you alive? How are you in this world like me? I thought this was my own personal hell or some weird simulation? When Vagabond did speak, a familiar voice would ring out from behind the black skull mask. A secondary thought he had, was how much shorter Rimmy was compared to him. That didn't change.

To say that he had been sleeping soundly would be a fucking lie. He never even really slept all that well even when he was a human. He had always been jumpy when he finally did decide to get some sleep. He was probably lucky that his mask hid the bags underneath his eyes. He slept with a gun underneath his pillow and a knife right underneath his bed on the side that he was sleeping on. Certain noises would be quick to wake him up, and if there were too many ambient noises around him he would refuse to go to sleep entirely. He couldn't sleep without thinking that his life would be in danger in that damn house. As time went on, he slept a little bit better knowing that everyone in the house could hold their own. Well, except for maybe one but if the other was shot it would give them enough notice to wake everyone else up. However, he still had nightmares even back then, and it was nightmares about the last moments that he was in the organization. His gun pointed in his partner's direction while he was on the ground, just waiting to pull the trigger and get rid of a loose end. the other didn't want to leave with him and believed that the organization was just fine. Eventually, he shot right next to his partner's head, watching as he cupped his hands over his ear near where the bullet landed. What gave him the nightmare was the look at his best friend gave him. The look of nothing but hate and betrayal. He didn't have a choice. He had to take down the organization and he didn't want anything to happen to him so he left him out of it. Maybe if he had let the other know from the very beginning it would have turned out definitely. But, there was a chance that the other's loyalties would lie with the organization. He had been warned not to trust anyone, but not to trust the guy he had been working with for 6 years? It crushed him, and he still never forgave himself for what he did to the other.

Did he become a criminal because he didn't have any other routes to take? He wasn't sure, and he couldn't exactly ask unless he wanted to reveal who he was. Either way, fate thought it would seem to be funny to continue to have nightmares from when he was a human play inside of his head when he tried to sleep. He didn't just dream of Rimmy dying, but instead, he dreamed of everyone in that building burning to death while he was outside trying to figure out what he could do to save their lives. Rimmy just happened to be the only one of the crewmembers that he actually saw killed in front of him instead of visually seeing the rest of them die. He guessed that he should be lucky that he was far enough away not to hear the other's blood splatter across his own car. But he already knew what those sounds sounded like from his own experience of mowing people down in front of their own vehicles. Vagabond's eyes didn't look to see as the liquor bottle fell from the other's tail. It wasn't visible thanks to the mask that he wore on his face, but his jaw was slightly slack in shock. Part of him was excited to see his best friend again, albeit he would prefer it to be in better circumstances than the one they were currently in. They had died. He was certain of that now if he was seeing Rimmy here. The muscles around his shoulders seemed to twitch, and his twin tails behind him twitched with uncertainty and slight confusion. Vagabond was great when it came to trying to shove his emotions away and hide them, the mask certainly helped. He noticed the expression that the other had on his face, as far as they knew, the rest of their family was dead. Unless they were all transported to this world at least. "I feel like its fucking groundhog day over and over again." The Hellhound would say with a huff as he craned his neck to the side until he heard his neck popped.

He said that in response to what the other said about them coming out of the same hole. He felt as if he was reliving the nightmares over and over again. "I guess you can say we're lucky we ended up in the same place." Vagabond would say with the utmost sarcasm. This wasn't luck. He hated what he was and would much rather be a human. Could they even return where they came from? The last thing he wanted to do was do some kind of weird-ass ritual in a place like this. The Hellhound began to move when there was silence between them, sitting to the right of Rimmy, and leaving plenty of space between them. Vagabond couldn't help but roll his eyes at the mention of the alcohol being ruined. "If this world has alcohol we could probably steal it from someplace. Especially if there are other places like this." It seemed almost regular to say something like that. Instead of trying to get the object by normal means, stealing it made more sense to him. Vagabond didn't say that he could really use a drink right now. He was fucking exhausted and he was trying not to show it, although his head was slightly lower than usual. But could one figure that out now that he was just a canine? He didn't know. Vagabond noticed the way the other's expression seemed to change several times over the quick conversation. The Hellhound wasn't that great when it tried to get others to talk about their emotions, as his methods of feeling better could be considered a bit brutal. Then the other began to describe his wings, and he was slightly impressed that the other had managed to fly here.

A shit eating smirk was slightly hidden by his mask, but could probably be inferred with the way his stark blue eyes curled slightly. "So what are you supposed to me? You look like some sort...... I don't know. Dog chicken?" Vagabond joked toward the other as he gestured him with one of his massive black paws. He was just fucking with him, as he usually did with those that interacted with. It was either threats or teasing nothing much in between. "Glad to see that your height carried over to this strange ass world." He knew the other had a temper when it came to his height, but he was never against pressing the other's button. Hell, the first time that he had met the other in the organization, he had made fun of his height simply on observation on instinct. Despite how calm and collected Vagabond was, he was mostly freaking out. His entire body was tense in a stressful manner. The ears on top of his skull constantly swiveling as if to check if there was something behind him. At his question, Vagabond seemed to walk a couple of minutes before answering. "Hell if I know. I just kept walking until I could find something I could talk with." The Hellhound said in a frustrated manner, his voice shaking slightly as he did speak. Now that he was in this world, he had plenty of time to think about the things that he had done. Most of which were regrets to a certain degree. Vagabond knew that both of them weren't doing well. He could tell just looking at Rimmy's face. Did he know of any way to get better? He had a couple methods in mind but he didn't even know if they worked. The former human was just going to do what he had been doing from the beginning. To live. To live out of spite of others. To live to experience the world. He continued to live.