I'M A WANTED MAN | BLOOD

[| THE VAGABOND |]

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Questions no one can answer -

One would think that arriving in a new world and only having been in it for the past three days meant that one would take it easy. For someone like Vagabond, it didn't mean that he could just sit around and do nothing all day. It was like the time when he was a human where he was always found doing something. Whether that meant cleaning his gear to make sure that it would work perfectly in the field or some other method. He could sometimes be seen practicing his throwing knives to keep himself busy so that he wasn't rusty. There were a few chances where he could be sitting around actually relaxing for once, but it wasn't really a common occurrence. He definitely enjoyed being hired all the tie when he did have missions to do, but that didn't mean his services were cheap either. He was great at what he did, and it seemed like killing someone in this world wasn't as hard as he would have thought. Maybe a little bit because he did come back with a couple scratches here and there. Not like he cared all that much because he survived and that's what mattered the most. He got his calling card out there in two groups, and he wondered how long it would take before they finally started to look for him. Vagabond didn't really understand how animals worked all that well and that a group could probably track his scent all the way back. Eventually, he would learn from his mistakes and probably get out scott free like he usually did back when he was human. At least here he didn't have to worry about getting a gun pointed at his face or have to worry about getting a bullet through his shoulder. Getting shot wasn't exactly the most amazing feeling in the world, and he wasn't impervious to the likes of pain either. Vagabond had killed two people. He had only been in this world for approximately four days now. The 6ft tall Hellhound walked across the desert toward the canyon where he would be able to wash off a little bit.

The brute didn't get away unscathed, as most of the blood that covered the front half of his body and his mask wasn't his own blood. But his right arm had teeth marks through the flesh, as he hadn't expected his last victim to grab him. He overpowered the Typhooner in the end though, and he wasn't going to bring the likes of her corpse around as there was no need to. The Rosebloods would soon realize that messing with him would definitely get them in trouble. Small drops of blood that weren't and were his own dripped onto the sand before he found his passage down into the canyon. He felt cross with having drying blood across his body, and he needed to clean his throwing knives as well. The former human didn't mind getting covered in blood, but at the same time, he didn't like being entirely dirty either. He wasn't a clean freak, he just didn't like the crusty feeling was well. He walked through the forest as if he owned the place, his stark blue eyes finding one of the many waterfalls that were in the jungle. Two bodies down, and a couple more. He had a lot to get down if he wanted to start somewhat of a business. He placed his paws into the water and looked down at his blood and the blood of his victims drained into the water. Moving closer to the waterfall, he would quickly run through as he tried to wipe away as much blood as possible before sitting down in the water with no care in the world. He would run the bite wound that he had gotten underneath the water, clenching his jaw at the stingy feeling of it all. If he had thumbs, he would be able to sew the wound up. The fuck was he supposed to do if he had a wound in this world? Another thing he didn't know and it annoyed him. He was going to have to ask someone around, which would probably hurt his pride a little. The pooling water around the small waterfall was certainly starting to turn scarlet from the large black beast.

[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;"]The pale pelted male was a rather clean individual, even when performing acts of depraved violence he generally would wash himself afterwards, keep up appearances, and he was especially was keen on taking care of his immaculate silver mane to his abilities and beyond.  Bloodshed didn't scare him whatsoever, but he was tidy enough that it didn't show on his body.  Wounds were tended to easily, and he didn't have a scar on him.  It was a symbol of his self perceived grandiose and otherworldly look.

That being said when he saw others caked in evidence of their atrocities, he couldn't help but try to encourage vleaner habits.  After leaving behind the rotten stench of the old territory he wanted to keep this land much better smelling and looking then before.  Sephiroth would slink out of the ruins and catch sight of Vagabond, aquamarine eyes shifting up and down before he spoke.  "I see you had quite a day."  He rumbled, sensitive and enhanced nose catching the faintest remains of blood smell from the dark beast.

#psychosocial.

[BUGSY]

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It was a miracle that Bugsy didn't have scratches covering literally every inch of his body. He had been in countless scraps and brawls with people, and it was a wonder that he only had a handful of visible scars. They were primarily across his face as well as his ears, but other than that, his fur had eventually grown back in like normal.

The Beauceron arrived after Sephiroth, cocking his head in his usual manner as he studied the crimson-stained hellhound. "I take it that ain't ketchup." Remarked the Roseblood in a snarky fashion before he [sub]plopped[/sub] down onto his haunches nonchalantly. "So, big guy, how'd you get your boo-boos?" He genuinely wanted to know; Vagabond got roused up pretty easily, but Bugsy liked the story of a good fight coming from just about anyone. Or, if he told them that he had scratched himself by tumbling down a hill, then he'd get a good laugh out of that as well.

[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;"]Perhaps he was hitting the bottles too hard lately. But getting his conjuration abilities to work and work properly was on his mind now. And every bottle that he managed to bring to himself he drank. And he drank, and he drank till he was almost sick to his stomach. Now his world really held no rhyme or reason to it and he was walking with a strange sideways motion though he felt exceedingly happy for some reason. Maybe it was because he couldn't think about his past, he couldn't think about his nightmares that kept him up for the past few days. That was his life though and he didn't want to change it right now. If being drunk gave him enough peace of mind then he would surely take it. Hell, maybe he could even get some sleep and sure he might regret the next day and be vomiting up his guts it would still be totally worth it. Just for a little while but he knew better than to get alcohol poisoning so he had taken a break from working on his conjuration and instead was as mentioned before walking sideways. His dual colored eyes narrowed a little as he tired to make the world stop going sideways as well but he didn't have much of a choice as he moved almost lazily. That was when he picked up on the scent of blood and he wrinkled up his muzzle for a moment, debating on if he should turn around.

But it was highly unlikely when he smelled Vagabond's scent mixed in with it and the scent of some place that he didn't yet know of. Slinking over the male would arrive upon the scene and he couldn't help but let out a cackling laugh, jaws slightly parted as his bright orange tongue hung out his mouth. One ear twitched as he slipped by the guy that that talked about boo boos because he was generally right. That was nothing but a scratch on Vagabond and the african wild dog was only interested in figuring out what the hell happened currently. He lifted his head up a bit and tried to sniff at the wound before he back stepped and crinkled up his nose. "So did ya get anything for it? Or was it...like...was it just you doin' you again?" He'd know what that meant and he flopped down, legs sprawled out as he pressed his head against the ground. Actually right now he felt like he was about to vomit most certainly but he merely swallowed and closed his eyes.

[| THE VAGABOND |]

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Questions no one can answer -

The male did take some enjoyment of just going out and causing trouble here and there. It was a way that he got a little bit of exercise while he was a human instead of sitting inside of a penthouse all day letting himself rot from the brain to the body. There were times where he might play a couple of video games, but he was always on the lookout for one of the next jobs that he could take. Money was something that happened, and alcohol was also another good catch from all of it. The former human wasn't a fan of a certain type of alcohol, but he didn't mind having a couple of drinks here and there. He would upright refuse a drink if he was meeting someone for business. Thanks to the reputation that he had with himself, the male had no reason to think that all of the drinks that were given to him weren't actually poisoned. It almost reminded him about how some people were poisoned in the movies, but in real life, it was fairly accurate. Anyone could take any opportunity to end's one life. That's what separated the crew that he was with from other crews. They knew that they were living on borrowed time and that they weren't going to live forever. So, they lived life like it was going to be their last day. The group never did anything in small amounts, and instead, they always made a big deal out of something as if it was some sort of advantage. He did have to admit that it was certainly fun running away from the cops riding on a motorcycle while one of his crewmates rode with him and fired at the cops behind them. It was almost like a game, but instead of it being a game it was a way of life. Living life to the fullest. He wouldn't change it for anything else. Although, he would change his past a little bit, and try to make it up to his partner when he betrayed him a couple years ago.

He could say that it was for the better good, but that wouldn't mean shit to someone like him. He was going to have to find something else to make it up to him, but right now hiding his identity was the best option that he had. The Hellhound continued to look at the deep bite mark that was on his right arm. He was busy squeezing some of the blood out, as he didn't know what kind of fucking bacteria could have been in the canine's mouth that he had killed. Once he thought that the waterfall did a well enough job, he began to clean the knives that were quickly put into the sash he wore across his body, similar to what Rimmy had. The Hellhound made sure to always clean his equipment, as he didn't know when he would get another set of knives. What he would give to have slightly bigger knives though, as throwing knives weren't all that big. The ears on top of his head were constantly swiveling, and it wasn't hard for him to hear movement that was coming toward him. There were times where his powers turned on, and he wasn't even sure why he was capable of doing some of the stuff that he could. His vivid blue eyes turned to look at the creature that was making his way toward him, but not completely close. It was a lion. That was a breed of wildcat that he knew because some gangs used the lion as a symbol of strength or as a logo. He had no idea who this guy was, but it was obvious the guy lived here. He should probably sit down and do a little bit of research. Did these guys have books or something like that?  Vagabond didn't take his eyes off of the lion as he moved his arm to test to make sure that his muscles weren't damaged that badly. A small smirk spread across his facial features that were hidden by the black skull mask that he wore.

"One of the more normal days than what I'm really used to." Vagabond said with a shrug of his shoulders. On a good day, there were usually piles of bodies that were littered with bullets that his crew had killed. Removing his arm from the water, he showed it to the lion. This guy had to know something right? "What do animals use to fix something like this?" The question was honest. He wasn't an animal in his first life and didn't know how to treat wounds in a place like this. The hellbeast didn't like asking for help, and he wasn't really asking for any sort of help. He was just asking where he could get supplies and what to look out for so that he could take care of it himself. Then it was someone that he would much rather ignore. He was fairly certain that he didn't know the other's name. The annoyed look hid from the canine's sight and the other seemed to like trying to push his buttons. It wasn't the same way that a certain someone used to push his buttons. This one was a little bit more grating. He could easily kill the canine just by standing on his chest and putting his weight on him if he wanted to. That's how easy it was to kill him. While the other spoke, Vagabond wasn't looking at the canine, and instead, one of the throwing knives hovered near his head, only to launch it at Bugsy. The throwing knife aimed to simply knick the other's cheek and impale itself into the ground where he was standing, doing no further damage if it managed to hit. [member=2191]BUGSY[/member]  "Next time I won't miss." A smirk spread across his facial features as he tilted his head so that his eyes could look in the other's direction.

That was his first warning. Next time he would stick a knife through his throat. His attention was soon diverted as he saw a familiar face. Vagabond could almost immediately tell that the guy was drunk, animal or not. He had been around the male for so long at this point that he knew what to look out for. And from the looks of it, the guy had had plenty of liquor. The cackling laughter was more than a sign to show how far gone the guy was. "I'm surprised you aren't sweating alcohol right now." Vagabond said toward the shorter canine. It could either be taken as an insult or even a scolding. Vagabond wasn't about to get drunk in a place like this. If anything, him getting drunk would make it worse for everyone else. The Hellhound didn't move his arm away when the other tried to sniff at it, and Rimmy soon finally spoke. Albeit barely from the way the other was sounding. The other certainly did know him well when it came to figuring out why he went out to kill someone. Vagabond shook his head at the other's question before answering. "Been here for a day, kinda hard to really get any business when no one knows who we are. So, had to advertise a little bit." Vagabond explained, not bothering to hide what he had done. He didn't exactly say where he left the corpses of those that he did kill, because honestly, he didn't know whether or not he would be able to say where he left them. He didn't memorize the territory he went to. Vagabond couldn't help but let a little snort at the other just plunging his head into the dirt. "If you feel that bad just make yourself vomit. That'll take care of it." Vagabond offered a quick way for the African Wild dog to start feeling better. At least, that's what he did if he needed to start sobering up.

[sub][W]isker[/sub]