ROSE GOLD | joining

[GOLDENBOY.]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; text-align: justify;"]➸ /legit everything up until the linebreak is just backstory and can be completely ignored!! if you do read it there's a tw for blood & violence - and ofc dont feel the need to match i was on a heckin roll writing this up :') (forgive grammar mistakes its midnight and im too lazy 2 proofread)

It was time. Arguably their biggest heist to date, not because of the measureless spoils but because their target was so high-profile. An enemy gang, weakened considerably by law enforcement hammering down on its underground rings. The clicking of magazines sliding into guns was an old song to his ears, alongside the squeal of tires and the energetic screams of his crewmates into the comms in the throes of a gunfight. Well, usually Gavin was the one screaming into his comm and insulting bodies as they fell. Rarely was he the one to deal the finishing shot, more than often not spray cover or even be the one behind the cover fire. As clumsy, foolish, and irresponsible as he was at the penthouse Gavin Free damn well knew how to make himself a useful member of the Crew. Golden hands, golden tongue, able to hack into any system and weasel himself into the favor of any of those he so chose.

Loading his own handgun, he slipped it beneath his beltline to conceal the weapon beneath his pants against his leg. For the sake of disguise Gavin had to lose his golden accessories, neck free of adornments and ears clear of piercings. Adjusting his white-collar suit he cast his companion a glance, flashing a grin at the redhead as his counterpart dressed up himself. "You look dapper, Michael," he commented, sliding a black Rolex onto his wrist in place of the blinding yellow one. "Shut the fuck up" was the only response given, silence falling over the duo as Gavin finished suiting himself up over the curses of Michael struggling with his own outfit. After grabbing his satchel Gavin bid his foul-tempered companion a farewell as he exited the safehouse, swinging a leg over his motorcycle and feeling it purr to life between his legs. He wore a helmet for the sake of concealing his face rather than safety, obeying traffic laws rather than weaving through traffic and disregarding lights as he so normally did as to not draw attention to himself. This heist was big, and Gavin knew he couldn't bring unwanted attention with him - Geoff would have his head. Coming to a slow (and legally parked, for once) stop at the designated meeting place, Gavin dismounted his cycle and hung his helmet on the handlebar, fixing up his suit from how the wind had gaffed it up. His Crewmates for the infiltration were lingering at various ends of the street, blending with the crowd as they waited for the rest to assemble.

Smalltalk between "strangers" (his family) passed what little time remained until the remaining infiltrating crew was assembled. Before even that they had received confirmation that the steakout crew was in place and scoped up, and the second wave was in place behind the building. Their small conglomerate walked the block until they reached the building owned by the rival gangs' boss. They just had to go in and offer to work out a deal. Easy enough. His golden tongue offered fools gold so many tried to grasp at. But as Geoff parted the glass doors to allow the rest of his "businessmen" through, something felt very wrong. Wrong in a way Gavin could not place, but what caused the Golden Boy to hesitate for even the slightest moment. The receptionist noticed his trepidation, eyes narrowing the slightest at the group as they entered. "Ah, hello, love." He greeted smoothly, a fluid smile washing away any hesitations on his face as he neared the front desk. The receptionist stared unblinkingly at him as the thunder of a shotgun sounded off behind him, the sound of a body collapsing to the ground immediately following it. A grenade whistled past his head to land behind the receptionist, forcing the girl to move as she pulled her own gun out from beneath the desk. Gavin reacted quicker, pulling his handgun out and silencing the girl before she could even make a sound. A scream to move - Michael? - forced his feet backwards, stumbling over the bodies of his Crewmates and the enemy gang alike to seek shelter as the grenade blew a hole in the wall further into the building. Christ, this heist was moving hastily, wasn't it? It was time for him to come to his senses rather than sit in shock of how someone had already fallen. He couldn't bother to know who - the emotional reaction would only hinder him, and he knew it. So instead he reached a hand up from his cover and fired blindly. Instead of his Crewmates pouring in from the back it was reinforcements of the other crew, boots splattered with blood and the fresh smell of gunpowder on them.

The back crew was... dead?

Christ alive, how could it the heist go so wrong? The Crew had planned for so long, failsafes for failsafes, entire backup plans crafted if even a single bullet strayed from its target. They hadn't expected them to be so ready to fight back in the end. Going against a rival "gang", kingpins of organized crime that their own Crew looked to dethrone and hold such the title alone. They were fighting back with everything they had - why was this the one thing they hadn't prepared for? God damn it. The barrel of a rifle peered at him as it was thrust over the edge of his cover. God damn it. Fleet footed, Gavin pushed himself into a sprint as a bullet pierced the ground he had been moments ago. Gunshots rang around him as he pushed his way out of the remains of the shattered glass door. A flash of bloodied redhead on the ground flashed by in his peripheral vision as Gavin peeled out from the building. The sight that greeted him outside was hardly that of a fair fight. His sneakers splashed in thick puddles of blood. Bullets pierced the cars of the backup they had arranged. Spread across the hood of one car was a familiar obnoxious orange and purple suit, that couldn't be - no way had a street fight taken down the brawler. But lifeless eyes did not tell false tales.

Before Gavin could react to his surroundings a thick arm wrapped around his neck, pressing a gun against his temple and screaming insults into his ear that Gavin did not register. Death was not a foreign idea to those that ran in their Crew. It was a reality they forced upon others many times. But these bastards had drained the fight from his Crewmates, stomped over their bodies like street trash. How dare they. A sharp elbow back hardly harmed his attacker but created enough space for Gavin to whirl around and press his handgun into the enemy crewmember's abdomen, pulling the trigger without hesitation and continuing to flee as soon as the tension from his arm loosened. The Golden Boy was a snake with his honey words, and just as difficult to catch as such a deceiving serpent. Leaving bloody footprints behind him as he sprinted down the street, bystanders cowarded in any crevice they could squeeze themselves into to not be apart of the war. Trembling hands fumbled with his collar to pull out his small headset, his lifeline to the rest of the crew. Pushing it to his ear he was met with silence, screaming nonsense in the hopes that anyone would respond. Instead a sharp pain bloomed from his calf, the ground catching up with him quickly as a well-placed bullet caught him in the leg and threw him down.

It was not the first time Gavin had been shot, but it was rapidly nearing his last. Before Gavin could push himself up to his feet again a heavy foot pushed on his back to throw him back down. His skull cracked against the concrete, blood from his split skin mingling with the blood of his Crewmates that had splattered onto his clothing. His crewmates, his family. In the face of death, coming to terms with the deaths of those he treasured, the Golden Boy was but fool's gold himself. Right now he was not a highly skilled hacker, a silvertongued Brit with the ability to charm intel out of anyone. He was Gavin Free, a nobody bleeding out in the streets as dozen other nameless faces did that day. Without his family he was nobody.

His thoughts were interrupted by the clap of a fired gun behind his head.

---

Where the bloody Hell was he? This was now day two or three since Gavin had been thrust into this new world, and for a while he had almost considered it to be, well, Hell. But Hell wasn't allowed to be this pleasant. He could still feel the heat of the sun on his skin - or, rather, fur. He could feel sand beneath his feet, could taste the rush of blood after catching a scrawny lizard. Admittedly, his biggest achievement so far was catching a small old lizard too close to death to bother trying to run from it anymore. But its bones and scales (was he supposed to eat those as well? Well, he did anyways) were enough to keep his stomach from rumbling, and that was more than enough to satisfy the warm hazel caracal. This time alone came with quite a flaw, however, in that it gave the boy ample time to think. To think about his crew, to think about what had happened to them, to think about his predicament. If it weren't for the visceral thrill of his first catch, he would still believe he was in some sort of blood loss induced fever dream. Hunting as a human as opposed to a literal animal was never quite as satisfying. Then again, murder had been his occupation. Small wonder he found little pleasure outside of "the most dangerous game". Hell, he even felt bad on the few occasions his motorcycle had hit a rabbit - or the one time he hit a deer and was launched into oncoming traffic. That was the singular time his helmet had ever come in useful.

The wildcat was murmuring songs he and Geoff used to scream to himself as he padded across the desert, unaccustomed to such acute senses. Everything around him smelled so intense, which in itself was the perfect bridge for a nose joke that he was ironically happy none of his Crewmates were around to mock him for. The sand dunes shifted across themselves with the softest breeze and it caused his sensitive ears to twitch and swivel toward the direction of the sound. Having ears that moved independently - having ears that moved at all was insanely strange. Would that be something he could eventually control, or was he cursed to just always force himself to listen in on nonsense?

A new scent practically slapped him in the face as he meandered the deserts, unrecognizable to him but definitely something. It was almost nauseatingly strong. Odd things disgusted him, but the heavy scents of so many things both alive, dead, and inanimate was so overwhelming it made his head spin. The caracal took a step back, tufted ears reclining against his head as he clumsily tripped over his feet and barely managed to catch himself before spilling into the sands. Walking on four legs was also a considerable challenge, considering he struggled to walk with only two legs and now that difficulty was doubled. Green eyes narrowed against the harsh sunlight, although it was an environment he had quickly adapted to. The outskirts of the city had been a scrubland, and this desert was the only thing Gavin knew with his heightened senses and thin pelt. Hm, speaking of his new features, it was a shame he hadn't been able to see his reflection yet - he wondered if this new animal vessel was handsome enough for him to be satisfied with. That would have to be a problem for another time, he supposed. "Hello, anybody home?" The Brit called, taking a small step toward the barrier of scents that must have marked some sort of boundary. "Can someone give me some minging directions?"

[| THE VAGABOND |]

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Questions no one can answer -

He would be lying if he didn't say that he was guilty of the death of literally the entire crew. He remembered how the mention of the heist was being brought up in the first place. He remembered that after a raid against one of the crime boss's buildings, they had managed to keep one of them alive. Well, he did, and he had done so by shooting out the guy's kneecaps with his sniper. The guy was either going to try to bleed to death by crawling around, but they were going to get information. No one knew that he had a prisoner until he brought it up later that night and gave away all the information that he had for them. Vagabond didn't tell anyone because they were off cleaning up the rest of the guards that were around the area and were making off with the rest of the goods that were inside the building. They didn't just go there to rob the guys, but at the same time, it was to send a message that they were willing to fight back. They didn't have any henchmen like the other guy, but they were skilled enough that they could take most of them off in the first place. Either way, he took the guy off to one of the many bunkers that they had spread around the city, ignoring the vibration of his phone as he did so as the crew tried to contact him. The guy that he had slung over his shoulder was certainly leaving a blood stain on his leather jacket, and he was going to have to clean that up later before it could stain his jacket too. Vagabond pulled up one of the many chairs that were inside one of the rooms and sat the guy in the chair. He was fairly certain that the guy was unconscious thanks tot he loss of the blood the guy was going through. He knew that feeling of nearly passing out from blood loss. Vagabond slapped the man awake, and the other jolted in shock from the sudden new pain across his cheek. He knew that soon he wouldn't be able to feel much as his body would begin to start shutting down after everything happened. Vagabond questioned the man for around an hour or even more for that matter.

The guy didn't want to talk at first, but the man had a way of making those talk even if they didn't really want to. He started inflicting pain on the other man and giving him other options to redeem himself. Telling him the truth about what his crime boss was doing and that it would be better for the guy just to disappear and live a new life. Eventually, the stress wearing on the man's body took its toll, and he finally broke and spoke about what he knew. What Vagabond didn't know, was that this guy didn't work for the crime boss that they worked for. Instead, the guy was there to put false information and pretend like it was important information in the end. Vagabond believed him although he was going to do more research, later on, to make sure that the bastard wasn't lying to them. Vagabond got up from his chair once he had all the answers that he needed, and taking out his sidearm, he shot the man square in the face. Finally, he pulled his cell phone out of his pockets, not even bothering to pay attention to the text messages or missed phone calls of people trying to get a hold of him. Vagabond called Geoff, ignoring the angry questions the other had for him, and simply spoke about what he had just been up to. Grabbed the corpse of the man and put him over his shoulder so that he could dispose of the body instead of leaving it to rot in the room where he had tortured the man. He carried on the casual conversation like nothing bad was happening, walking out of the bunker and throwing the body in the dumpster. He finished talking to Geoff and hung up, finding the nearest vehicle that he could get and hopping into it and making his way back toward the headquarters and penthouse that they met up in when it came to planning the heists. It was only a couple of days before Vagabond could prove that the guy that he talked to was indeed right. Not realizing that it was a set up from the very beginning. The heist planning started off like any other heist that had started, and they were all given roles that they were going to do. Vagabond was going to be put on the rooftop nearby and take off the guards that were on the roof of the building and deal with any targets that were threatening through the window.

Rimmy was going to come after the signal was given and approach the front of the building with his armored truck that they would use as their getaway. He listened to the rest of what everyone else was going to do, and they had planned on ending the feud right then and there. Gathering up their gear, they would wait till night fell the previous day before they made their heist against the enemy group. Vagabond took the chance to clean all the gear that he had and make sure that all of their radios were in working condition. He was great when it came to technology after all, and most of the crew looked to him when they were having troubles like that. Jack was the pilot, Geoff was the boss, Gavin was great with getting in and out stealthily, and Michael and Rimmy were both the fighters of the group that had their own methods that they liked to use. Vagabond had lost track of how many different cars Rimmy had managed to either purchase or steal over the years. They were rich in the simple terms of it all, but that wasn't to say that they couldn't use more money or take out what they considered the bad guys in their mind. Vagabond was going to be the first one on the scene to make sure that they weren't going to run into any trouble and give them the all clear. He hadn't changed his clothes really as he knew it was going to be another messy night. The sniper laid on the roof as he checked the exists and the routes that everyone would end up taking, radioing in to tell the crew that everything was all clear. He ignored the arguing that was always going on and kept to himself most of the time. Vagabond never realized up to this point, that the guy that he had been carrying had put a tracking chip into the pocket of his jacket. The man had done so while he was carrying him, and the other did it within the slightest movement that Vagabond didn't even notice.

At the same time, the man gave up his life to put the tracker on him in the first place. Vagabond had known that there was an issue when the explosion went off in the building, which was planned to happen, and he heard gunfire over the radio. He noticed while he looked through his scope, there were far too many henchmen that were inside of the building. There were only supposed to be a couple that would be there that night. Vagabond had a sinking feeling of what it could possibly mean, as he wasn't sure if it had been a set-up from the very beginning. It was only when Rimmy parked the armored truck out in the front of the building after hearing the signal, getting out, and opening both of the doors. Vagabond still has the memory of the man being littered with bullets, his body falling onto the hood of his own car. The issue with being with littered with bullets, depending on where one was hit, there was a chance that he wouldn't die immediately. Vagabond was looking through his sniper scope and trying to take out as man guys that he could, holding his radio to his mouth trying to see if anyone was alive. As soon as he pressed the button to the radio, and started talking, his voice would have been immediately cut off. The man hadn't noticed that the tracker had given away his position, and he failed to notice the red dog that was placed right on his skull. There was no way the metal mask that he wore, was capable of holding back another sniper bullet. As soon as the bullet penetrated his skull, the man immediately fell him, slumping off to the side with his radio falling out of his hand. He may not have shown it, but the man had cared about the crew. They had taken him in after he left the organization that he had burned down. Geoff let him in without questioning his motives, as he could figure what he wanted to do from that moment on. No matter how many of them annoyed him, after being with them for several years, they had grown to be a family. He never wished for any of them to die. They should not have died.

____________________

Gavin had certainly faired a lot better than Vagabond had when it came to arriving in the world like this. This would technically be his fourth day in this world, and he still wasn't sure what to think of it. At least the other male had managed to figure out how to eat food. Vagabond didn't exactly like the idea of eating anything that was raw, as being a former human he was used for having any food that he came into contact with to be cooked, or be sterile enough that he could actually eat it. The large beast had yet to really eat anything substantial, which would probably kick him in the ass later on, but he didn't really care all that much right now. He was barely able to gather any of his barrings the past couple of days, but he had also made sure that he was keeping himself busy. When he first arrived here, the man believed that he was somehow in hell. He had never been the religious type, but he knew for a fact that whenever he did die, he probably wouldn't be put in the best place possible. In the beginning, when he worked for the law he might have, but right now with his track record and all the murders that he had committed, there was no way that was going to happen. He was fairly certain that he didn't have any good redeeming qualities about him, and those that got to know him even kept their distance because of how dangerous he was all of the time. Only those close to him were capable of pulling pranks without him pulling the trigger in front of their face. They were the lucky ones. He thought that maybe this was some sort of sick god's idea of trying to torture the guy. Because when he woke up, he was in the middle of a crater and there was nothing around him. He knew wildlife usually existed in most places, so to simply not see anything around for the entire day that he was around, it began to concern him that he would just be ALONE with his thoughts. With the new life that he had now though, it did bring up the thought that maybe this was the time where he would be able to make up for the terrible things that he had done. Turn a new leaf. Make his life better and atone for his sins. Yeah right. Having nothing really familiar about this world, he was going to fall into old habits that were almost impossible for him to break.

The beast did go back to his old habits, and so far he had gone through two animals and was planning on killing a third. Animals were capable of speech, a strange occurrence that he was quick to get used to as he had seen plenty of strange things during his time with the crew anyway. Despite all of this, the beast would much rather prefer the likes of the gun in his hands, rather than just having knives to use day after day. Those weren't exactly as fun and he would like to fight at a distance. Most animals were capable of using their jaws to deal significant damage, while Vagabond was incapable of doing that because of the fact that he wore the mask that was constantly on his face that he refused to take off. No one had actually seen what he looked like underneath the mask unless someone managed to lift his mask while he was asleep as a human. He planned on keeping on the mask that he had no on his face. The mask was very similar to the one that he had while he was a human. Taking the shape of more of a human skull than the likes of a canine skull, the mask having elongated to fit his long muzzle as a canine. The body he had in this strange world was certainly more than capable of dishing out a lot of damage just with brute strength alone. The large beast stood around 6ft tall, weighing a lot more than the likes of a lion or tiger for that matter. He had scaled plating that ran across his spine and a small portion of his back. He had two tails instead of one, both being slightly longer and thinner than that of a regular dog's tail, but still having plenty of fluff to them. After the recent events of those that he had murdered, there were a couple scrapes across his body and a wound on his right leg that he wasn't exactly sure how to treat but would figure it out eventually. The former human still had a lot to learn about the world that he was in, and part of him didn't want to learn thanks to the pride that he had when he thought about that he could figure it out himself. His body took more of the form of a massive wolf, black fur and a black mask, making it seem like the mask blended in with the fur itself.

The large beast also had white facepaint underneath his mask, but it was impossible to tell unless he took the mask off which he refused to do. The mask also hid a scar that he had on the top of his head, which showed exactly where the sniper shot had gone through his skull when he had been a human, showing how he died. Again, impossible to see with the mask that he did wear. So far, he had been somewhat reunited with Rimmy. It was obvious that the two hadn't been fine the past four days, and he certainly wasn't expecting to see his lifelong friend after he had gotten gunned down by the enemy in front of his car. They had a small bit of time to mess with each other before they started working on the usual business. They didn't always have to work with one another. Vagabond was just returning from having a little bit of fun in the place called the Ascendants. He didn't know anything about enemies or allies and didn't think that animals were capable of doing as such. The more he explored the more he realized that these animals almost acted like gangs when it came to their territory. One thing he had to admit though, was that he hated all the fucking sand. Thanks to how large he was, he sank in the sand fairly easily. Sadly for Gavin, the large beast was coming from the same direction that he was walking toward the Rosebloods again. While Vagabond was walking, he started to notice footprints that were in the sand, ones that were obviously fresh. His head tilted in the manner that it almost always seemed to do when he was looking at something, and his eyes followed the trail until he spotted the one responsible for the trail. It looked like a cat. Hell if he knew what kind of breed of cat it was. He was only around ten feet away, and he could easily hear the other shouting for something as he was on the sand. As soon as he heard the other's voice, his heart leaped into his chest. That... had to be Gavin right? The other of course had a codename that he liked to use when they were around each other, but he did know the other's real name.

The Hellhound was extremely relieved that the other was alive, even if the male had the luck of a draw of becoming an animal like them. It also wasn't hard to distinguish the obvious British accent that the other had either. Rimmy would certainly be happy to hear that he was indeed alive. The Hellhound wasn't just going to have a happy reunion with the caracal though, and instead to mess with the younger man a little bit. He was slightly in the open where he was standing behind Gavin, his twin tails raising slightly to curl over his back. A loud snarl ripped through his jaws in Gavin's direction, although it didn't sound like a regular canine's snarl. It almost sounded slightly distorted, thanks to the mask, but also for the fact that he wasn't just a regular big dog. As soon as the sound escaped his lips, the 6ft tall hellbeast ran across the sand into the caracal's direction, and if he got close enough, he would aim to lash out with one of his paws, not to hurt the other, but simply to trip him along the sand. If that worked, Vagabond would aim to stand over the caracal and aim to place one paw onto the caracal's chest after having been rolled over from the first attack. The massive Hellhound would lower his masked face as threatening as he could toward the caracal's face, his teeth obviously hidden thanks to his mask, but the sound was still there. And if all of that worked, all of his actions would stop, and anything threatening about him would disappear in an instant. "Just making sure you're real ya cheeky bastard." Vagabond tried to do a horrible imitation about the other's accent as he moved off of the top of the caracal, chuckles escaping the former human's jaws as he sat near the caracal. In truth, he was happy that the guy was alive. "Looks like you drew the short straw as well." Vagabond mentioned as he looked at how tiny the caracal was compared to him, and also speaking of the others luck of having been transported to this world. As far as the former human knew, Gavin had died during the heist just like everyone else. But when Gavin had started to run from the building, Vagabond had already been shot and killed on the nearby roof, so he wouldn't have seen the other leave the building. He certainly took great joy in terrifying the younger male, but the other certainly had a great time of messing with him just as much.

[sub][W]isker[/sub]

[sephiroth]

SEPHIROTH

MALE — ROSEBLOODS — PHARAOH — HOVER FOR TAGS

[div style="background-color: #292727; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; width: 500px; height: 340px; padding: 10px;"]Sephiroth had heard the caracal's voice from a fair distance away thanks to his enhanced senses, and had started to approached he also heard the sound of Vagabond clearly in a mood so he picked up his pace quickly before anybody died without his permission.  He wasn't anti-violence of course, he himself was prone to participating in atrocities, but doing so to newcomers was something he liked to discourage.

The male caught sight of the hellhound beating up on Gavin before lifting themselves off of the newcomer, and Sephiroth would tilt his head with a smile look of amusement and curiosity.  "Are you perhaps familiar with this stranger?"  The Pharaoh would inquire, his luminous eyes going between the pair with a flash of interest in his expressive optics.

#psychosocial.

[rhosmari]

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[glow=#000,1,400]NOT CAUSE I'M BUSY, I JUST DON'T GIVE A FUCK — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

[div style="width: 480px; height: auto; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 13px;"]Unfortunately that had been what had happened. They'd planned everything out so methodically, nothing should have gone wrong and yet everything had. What happened to them that day? What was the thing that had went wrong he would never know for the moment he got there something had went wrong. He should have listened to his gut and just stayed in the armored truck, he would have had a better chance of surviving the onslaught of bullets if he just hadn't have gotten out of the truck but the signal had been given and they needed him right? It was his time to shine and to put to use his skills which he knew how to use rather well. He wasn't in the crew for nothing and cracking his knuckles was him getting ready. But he never got that far, never made it but one step away from the armor truck before bullets started to rain into him like a storm opening up to let lose the storm. Ha, he had never experienced something like that, it was almost like pure hatred hammering into his body and driving the will out of him. Nothing could survive something like that and so he didn't. There was no way he could have because he as just a man after all. No immortal god and just like anyone he would succumb to the one thing that humans always succumbed to. Mortality. Life would go on without and others would be happy. Go on with him and the crew he had cherished so much because indeed they were not just a band of riftrafts banning together. The years had brought them closer and they were a family.

Rimmy hadn't eaten in a full three days, living off of liquer as if it was the ambrosia from the gods. He just couldn't bring himself to put anything raw in his mouth. That was the problem with being turned from a human into what was supposed to be a feral beast. He just couldn't shove something uncooked into his piehole. All the burgers and barbecue, sandwiches and authentic foods he had eaten over the years stuck with him and he wanted that more than anything else. Even seeing small prey like animals running by him he would just watch them go even if his stomach grumbled loudly for him to go and get it. Fuck that. He didn't want that blood in his mouth or to feel them wiggling in his mouth. The very thought was appalling and he shuddered even at the idea of taking a bit out of it. So he just stuck with alcohol because he had somehow found out that he could conjure it to himself. Sure, it was unhealthy but what choice did he have when he couldn't bring himself to eat. Dehydration would kill him faster than starving would anyway. Withdrawing from a tree he had been leaning against the male heard voices. The sharpness of it made him wince and he could have sworn they almost sounded like they were right next to him. Shaking his head a bit the male turned and lifted his head up, sun pouring down over the brim of his hat.

Spreading his tattered feathered wings he huffed before attempting to take off from where he was. Now it wasn't the most elegant of things with him flapping his wings erratically as he tried to gain altitude but man, was he just happy to get off the ground one way or another. His legs jerked around a bit but he attempted to force himself to be as still as his muscles worked the wings but he had forgotten one thing. The fact that he had wretched those muscles and the pain caused him to wince a bit. "Got to make this quick." He growled as he jerked himself up through the air and clumsily toward the area of animals. He didn't know what was going on when he finally got there, landing in a heap of a mess out of the air, basically crash landing and rolling across the ground. Once again he lost his hat but he merely got up and shook out his body before grabbing it to place it on his head. "What's going on over here? What I miss?" He finally spoke up as he turned around to look at Vagabond and Sephiroth before turning to the caracal that was here with them and having possibly been tackled by Vagabond because who knew what that guy would do.

[GOLDENBOY.]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; text-align: justify;"]➸ The crackle of sand was not a new sound to the caracal, listening to his own footfall on his journey. The skittering of small lizards and snakes was another sound not wholly unfamiliar him now either, a skill he never thought he would have to harness. The heavy crunch behind him of much larger feet should have caught the Golden Boy's attention immediately, but instead the wildcat was too caught up fussing over his sensitive sense of smell. It would have been wise for Gavin to react, as instead a paw nearly half the size of him swept beneath him and took his legs with him. Already clumsy on four legs, he had no hopes of catching himself, plopping gracelessly into the warm sands beneath him and getting a dose shoved directly up his nose before his body was turned over and pressed into the earth. The pressure on his ribs scared him far more than the hulking beast himself did, an immediate reminder of his untimely demise that sent his heart racing. Anxiety was a new sensation to the Golden Boy, any other time able to confidently swallow his fears and face any challenges with a knowing smile. His paws scratched weakly at the paw holding him down, hardly able to move his own body as he struggled to register which limb to move when to get his attacker off of him. A large head hidden from sight spoke into his ear and immediately the caracal's panic melted away, muscles remaining tense in such an awkward position. As he struggled to straighten himself into a sit, Goldenboy's voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.

"... Vagabond?"

Now that he could get a look at the beast without the veil of instinct, it seemed to be something ripped out of a three brothers grimm story. A massive beast from the dark recesses of Hell itself, a familiar mask staring down at him in a way that seemed distorted. Goldenboy was accustomed to seeing such a mask on a human face, but whatever was staring at him now was absolutely not human. Not anymore. To be fair it was hard to really consider Vagabond human to begin with, at least when he was on the job. In a safehouse or in the penthouse he was a much softer man, but the beast before him reflected his workmanship well. Goldenboy casted a quick glance down at his own earthy paws, flexing his toes into the sand. His gaze snapped immediately back up to Vagabond, his neck quickly developing an ache. Looking up so suddenly, combined with the sand in his nose, caused the caracal to sneeze rather violently. It almost sounded cute, certainly much less messy and gross than that of a human sneeze. "How the bloody Hell are you here?" He inquired, returning his attention to Vagabond. The open-ended question wasn't one Goldenboy exactly expected an answer to, leaning up on his toes as his green eyes narrowed at Vagabond's next statement. "Short stick? What are you going on about?" Before he could continue his question another voice interrupted the duo, gaze snapping over to a silver lion. Hold on - what? A bloody lion!

Tufted ears inclined back as he shot Vagabond another question. "Christ, you think animals have always been able to talk but we just haven't listened hard enough?" His grammar was lackluster at best, his question half-baked, but it was a relic of Gavin that shone through as the Golden Boy quickly adapted to his surroundings. Hell, he almost felt bad about killing that lizard earlier. Almost. He had killed humans who could speak, who had families to return to but never did, and he had learned to repress that long ago. Replacing human faces with those of animals would almost be easier. His attention slowly meandered back to Sephiroth, sticking his tongue out in response. "He's a bloody arsehole alright, but I know 'em." God, he was talking to a lion! He was out of his damn mind! But the weight on his chest earlier was not a figment of his imagination, the icy fear in his veins far from something his mind would concoct. Last he could remember, he had been shot in the leg and was being held to the pavement with a boot to his back. How would that lead to a fever dream about talking animals?

His contemplation of the afterlife came to an abrupt ending as a canine came to an abrupt crash landing in itself, kicking up sand and eliciting another sneeze from the caracal. As the sand settled a mottled wild dog was reaching for something. A lion and an African wild dog - was he in Africa? It was a rather ridiculous idea, but then again everything about this situation was absolutely ridiculous. Goldenboy still wasn't sure this was reality, but he would take this reality over being shot in the back of the head on the pavement of a scummy city. Oh, he was quick to block that memory entirely from his thoughts. But the wild dog himself spoke as well, and ripped that bandaid off as harshly as it had been applied. "Rimmy.... fucking.... Tim...." "Fuck" was not a word that graced Gavin's vocabulary regularly, but there was no other crutch to lean on as he stared in disbelief. No. No way. He had seen Rimmy dead. Plugged full of lead, bright clothes stained dark, dead.

Stumbling to all four paws Goldenboy led off in a messy sprint, nearly tripping over himself as he built up some speed toward Rimmy. He didn't know any way of actually embracing Rimmy, so instead Goldenboy opted to barrel into the canine.

"You were dead, Rimmy, what the Hell are you two doing here!?"

[| THE VAGABOND |]

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Questions no one can answer -

He wasn't human anymore. That alone was certainly a hard blow to deal with. There were so many things that humans were capable of doing that animals were not even remotely close to managing. He missed being able to actually grab things with his fingers and talk about what humans used to talk about without being looked at like he was someone that was insane. Who cares if he wanted to talk about all the former food joints that he loved to go to? He wouldn't be able to ride his motorcycle again, he wouldn't be able to drive any vehicle for that matter. Now he wasn't all that much of a driver compared to the likes of Rimmy, but he did like to have vehicles once in a while as it was an exhilarating feeling. Vagabond would give everything up right now just to become a human again, but the more that he looked at the situation the more he realized that wasn't going to happen either. The Hellhound was probably going to be stuck like this if any of it was real for that matter. Everything seemed to be moving so fast and that he wasn't really feeling all that much that he couldn't decide whether or not that this was something that his mind was making up. What if his body was still slowly dying on the roof that he had been on, and this was just what he was making up inside of his head while his body slowly bled out from the bullet that was shot through him. It would be a weird way to think about it, that his mind was working a whole lot faster than the rest of the world did. It almost sounded like how situations like that actually happened in movies where time would slow for the protagonist if they were starting to die or if situations were starting to get a whole lot worse. Vagabond could vouch that didn't happen in real life and that the likelihood of that happening right now with his mind was basically zero. Yet, despite that, there was something in the back of his head that was telling him that there was still a possibility that none of it was real.

So, he was trying his damn best to enjoy himself. When he first arrived in this world he thought that his soul had gone to hell and this was where he was going to suffer for the rest of his eternity. He wasn't going to go down easily and thought to himself that he was going to make hell's his bitch. Seeing those that he had killed up to this point, he wasn't sure what he was going to do now. What was there to gain in this world? Instead of letting his mind get to the better of him Vagabond decided to spend the majority of his time working or at least doing something to keep his mind busy. He didn't care what it ended up being. He could spar with someone and that would keep him busy for the majority of the day anyway. It now seemed like most of the crew seemed to be coming back to life, or it just might be a select few instead of just everyone. First him, then Rimmy, and now Goldenboy. He didn't dare speak the other's real name in such a strange place as there was no reason to reveal their real names. Not like he had ever said his real name in the first place and just went by his alias. Vagabond was glad that the caracal had managed to recognize him. He was glad that his mask somehow made it to this world because if he didn't have his mask he was fairly certain that no one would be able to recognize him at all unless they heard him talk. Vagabond still had no idea what he was in this world, and that he was technically a supernatural and mythical creature that was supposed to bring terror and bad luck to those that he came across. Vagabond still considered ironic how enemies used to call him an animal, and now here he was. Fitting really. When the other's attention snapped back toward him after basically looking him over, Vagabond couldn't help but let a low chuckle escape his maw hearing the caracal sneeze. He never heard a cat sneeze before and it was kinda funny. At the other's question, Vagabond gave an innocent shrug of his shoulder. "I have no idea." It was said with honesty. He actually had no idea how he had gotten into a place like this.

The Hellhound just knew that he woke up in a crater and just started walking and hoping to find life in this world, which he found on the second day that he had been around. At the other's reaction, Vagabond couldn't help but let a smirk spread across his facial features, lowering his head slightly as he turned toward the much smaller animal. He would raise one of his massive black paws and pointed directly at Goldenboy's chest. "I'm talking about what you ended up becoming. I could crush you to death just by standing on you." Vagabond would mock the caracal in his own way. The Hellhound's ears swiveled though as he heard movement coming toward him, and he turned his head slightly in the direction of the white lion. He remembered this guy. He had been there after he came back covered in blood. Did he know his name? Of course not. He had to agree with Goldenboy at the mention of talking animals. "Certainly one of the strangest things I've ever seen in my life. I doubt anything would top it." Vagabond comments in a calm fashion, putting the calm demeanor back on now that the white lion was around. He didn't trust anyone else but his crew that was for damn sure. The hardest part for Vagabond was to figure out whether something was capable of speech, or was just some random animal that wasn't sentient. It was very hard to tell the difference unless someone was capable of speech. Vagabond was about to answer the lion's question about whether he knew the caracal or not, but Goldenboy beat him to it.

His nose scrunched up at the other's words, of course, he was right, but that didn't mean he had to take it. Vagabond rolled his eyes at the other's insult, pointing another paw at the caracal. "And you're a thieving snake, I don't see much of a difference." They were all assholes honestly, it was just Goldenboy pretended that he wasn't where Vagabond barely played the innocent card. Despite what Vagabond said, he wouldn't change the caracal for the world. They were crew. They were family. They were always to argue eventually. His vivid blue eyes soon changed targets as he watched a familiar figure that was coming toward them from the air. He was going to still have to get used to seeing the dog coming toward them. As soon as Goldenboy spotted Rimmy, Vagabond didn't have any reason to answer the other's question. The last thing he expected though was for the caracal to immediately start running toward the winged canid. Causing the Hellhound to get up onto his paws, as he didn't know how this was going to play out. He did hear the other asking how they were alive. Did Goldenboy see Rimmy die? Vagabond was fairly certain that no one saw him get shot. At least, he thought he got shot. "Seemed like fate wanted to take pity on us. I have no clue how we got here." Vagabond commented although Rimmy would probably give his own answers. The first sentence he said was obviously a joke. He didn't believe in fate, as he created his own. But, he did wish he knew how the situation turned out like this.

[sub][W]isker[/sub]