Mutants & Masterminds: The Indigo Children - [Prologue] Isaac Ward

[z-Isaac Ward]

The bell rang and took Ward’s rationality with it. He felt his lip curl a little as he settled into the balls of his feet, his fists coming up to guard his face. There were no more thoughts about the coming pain, or worries that he might not be victorious. There was no longer Richards or Ward. There was only the fight, only the moment.

Richards lunged forward and Ward moved. The young man stepped to the side with easy grace as he grabbed at the other man. His opponent lunged away before Ward could get a grip, but the beefy kid wasn’t done. He kicked as Richards tried to get completely clear and the older man cursed as pain exploded in his kidneys. Ward surged at him, a faint snarl that was cut short when Richards reversed his elbow into Ward’s teeth. Ward took two steps back and shook his head, clearing the pain easily. It hadn’t hurt him, but he still felt the jarring impact and the shock of ache.

Richards wasn’t a grappler; that was Ward’s strong suit. So Richards took advantage of the momentary lapse on Ward’s part to come at him again, trying a flurry of blows designed to daze and confuse.

The first strike missed but the second and third landed on Ward’s face. The younger man was dazed for a second, and that allowed Richards to bring his foot straight up in a kick that snapped Ward’s head back. For a second, it looked like the kid was on the ropes and the people betting on Richards roared with approval.

Ward’s head snapped forward and Richards recoiled. The look in the kid’s eyes! For one moment, all Richards could think was, He’s not human.

Ward rushed him. Richards attempted to recover, but it was like dodging a rhino. Ward was fast on his feet and swerved to match him. Richards was slammed backwards and tumbled to the ground, Ward’s arms around his waist. Richards recovered enough to bring his elbow down between Ward’s shoulders. It had to have hurt like hell, but the kid didn’t seem to feel it. Instead, Richards found himself wrapped in a brutal bear hug, tight enough that his breathing was affected.

With a grunt, Richards brought his knee up into Ward’s side, but he could have been pounding on a slab of meat for all the kid noticed. Instead, Richards found himself suddenly pinned while Ward pounded on him with his other fist. Quickly he realized the truth: no matter what he did, Ward didn’t stop his assault. As the world started to spin, Richards tapped out, going limp.

The bell rang and Isaac was aware of himself again. He released his pin on Richards, then helped the other man up. The rage and wildness in his mind began to pass and he even managed to smile and clap Richards on the back. As they announced he was the winner, Isaac held up his hands in a gesture of victory. He felt the pains and wounds that Richards had inflected on him. The gesture and the posturing were for the crowd. At this point, all he wanted as a hot dinner, a cold beer and the company of his favorite beings in the world: the furred and feathered ones.

[jameson (ST)]

The exaltations of the crowd followed Isaac as he walked out of the makeshift ring. There was money trading hands, in some cases more money than Isaac would get for winning the fight. Then again three hundred dollars wasn't exactly big money either. Bobby "Blindside" Callahan sidled up to Ward and the two walked through the crowd together for a bit. Bobby had once been a pro boxer. He'd had a way of delivering a combination that left the opponent unable to defend themselves which earned him the nickname, Blindside. He'd also thrown a match and earned the less savory appellation, "Bobby Banned".

Now Bobby ran underground fights for the Shreveson family and Isaac was his latest and greatest. Isaac was also one tough nut to crack, Bobby hadn't been able to get proper hooks into the boy thus far. "Come on lad, lemme enter ya into the big time, the opponents are tougher sure, but the money is better an' I know ya need the money. Everybody needs the money!" He handed Isaac a bunch of twenty dollar bills, three hundred dollars cash, Isaac's winnings prize. Better than the loser's prize of a cold bucket of "shut the fuck up and come back next time."

"I'm serious lad, ya could make ten times that much in the big games, more even if ya feel like puttin' a wager on yerself." Bobby eyed Isaac seriously, "Come on, whatta ya say?"

[z-Isaac Ward]

Isaac had been mulling over this. He'd heard stories about how dangerous the higher paying fights could be but he wasn't worried about that. Honestly, he'd been getting along just fine with the piddly amounts he made at these fights. It was interesting how much one could afford when one lived in an abandoned warehouse near the docks. It stank like the East River all the time, the neighborhood was dangerous, but it was free. He only had to buy essentials for himself and his friends; there was no girlfriend sucking away his income. He didn't have any debts, mostly because the things he'd acquire debt getting didn't interest him. Still, money was always nice.

Isaac shrugged. "I'll think 'boudit," he said, which was the closest he'd come yet to agreeing to it. "Gotta 'nother job tonight, gotta run," he added, offering his hand. "Thanks, Bobby."

"I'll convince ya yet, lad," the man promised as he shook Isaac's hand.

Isaac grinned. "Maybe you will," the young man replied. "But for now, just set me up for another match here, right?" After Bobby reluntantly agreed, Isaac went to the 'locker room'. Racuous was waiting for him, the big dog rising eagerly from his nap at Isaac's appearance. "Give me five minutes to shower," he told the dog, who yawned and stretched, blinking sleepily. He left Racuous leashed to the pipe for now, though the lead holding him couldn't have stopped the dog if he really wanted to go somewhere. He remained where he was because Isaac wanted him to remain there.

Twenty minutes later found them on a nearby corner. Isaac was dressed in black jeans and a tight black shirt; his wet hair was pulled back into a pony tail. Art's black SUV came roaring up, the door sliding open as it stopped. "Hey," Isaac said to the two guys inside as Racuous hopped in, already looking for a window to stick his head out.

Art, given name Arturo, nodded at him from the driver's seat. "Yo," he offered to Isaac. As Isaac settled himself and got the window open for Racuous, the wiry 'made man' turned the SUV around by swerving over three lanes of traffic and jumping a low median.

Donny eyed Isaac from the shotgun seat and nodded in greeting. Donny was a fellow 'knee-breaker' like Isaac, there to provide incentive to a recalcitrant customer. A drycleaner in Art's territory was refusing to pay his protection money, so Donny and Isaac were to persuade him to pay up. That was the reason that Racuous was here; the Akita-Sheppard mix looked far more intimidating than he really was. Art had asked for him because the dog had a truly frightening snarl, and Isaac could get him to threaten someone suitably.

As they drove, Isaac asked, "Anythin' else I should know 'bout this guy?"

[jameson (ST)]

"He's got two kids, one's twenty, she still lives at home. The son helps run the place but 'parently don't live there no more. So yeah, prolly nothin'. Shouldn't be an issue, unless of course we needta break someting. This guy's been trouble before, always with a baseball bat. They don't even have baseball in fuckin' gookland." Art shook his head, "Fuckin' gooks."

Donny laughed like an idiot, which he was, and echoed Art, "hehhe fuckin gooks."

The rest of the ride, all fifteen minutes of it, was blessedly silent save Raucous' occasional bark out the window and the sound of some crappy polka piping out of the stereo. Polka? Really? Art's taste in music was as suspect as his views on racial diversity.

The SUV, a custom job with sliding rear doors, turned and bumped up onto the curb, stopping. Art had once claimed the sliding doors were for style but the truth was it was easier to fire out of a moving vehicle that had sliding doors than out the windows of a normal car. The door on the curb side slid open on its own, and Donny lumbered out of his own like the walking wall of dumb that he was. Raucous hopped out nimbly, showing no indication of hip displasia so common in larger dogs. Isaac followed the dog to the sidewalk.

The lights were still on but the sign on the door said that the dry cleaner was closed. Please come back tomorrow, its sign asked in happy swoops of orange. Donny tried the door and found it locked. He looked at Isaac. "It's locked. Now what?" rumbled the sixth grade drop out.

[z-Isaac Ward]

Isaac looked to Art - it was his gig and his plan. Honestly, Isaac had assumed that it was an all-night cleaner given the hour. All the other shake-downs he'd been hired for had been during business hours. To his annoyance, Art was bopping his head to whatever obscenity of music he was listening to now. "Yo, Art," Isaac snarled, snapping his fingers in front of the other man's face. "What's the plan?"

"Plan? The plan is to go inside, shake down the guy and get him to fork over the cash," Art said, pulling out a headphone. "The details are up to you."

"To me?" Isaac couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. What the fuck kind of half-assed made man was Art? How in hell did he get into the mob with that sloppy attitude? He had to be someone's family.

"And Donny," Art said, and put the phones back in.

Oh, that was fuckin' perfect. Isaac didn't like working with Art, but this was a new low. He hadn't wanted to do this job, either, but he did need some income.

"Fine," Isaac growled. He looked at Donny. "You and Art, get outta sight." When the two men complied, Isaac looked down at Raucous. "Down," he murmured, pointing to the ground just under the window. The big dog edged over and flattened himself to the ground; a further command had him lowering his head, too. The old man shouldn't see him until he opened the door. Frowning, Isaac fished a piece of paper out of his pocket and knocked on the door. He kept knocking until a man of the right age and ethnicity showed up. "Open up!" he shouted, waving his paper too quickly for the guy to see what it really was. "Gotta pick up my clothes."

"We closed!" the guy shouted through the glass.

"Come on! I got a job interview first thing tomorrow," Isaac wheedled. "I gotta have my good clothes, man! Come on, I need this work." He hoped that the old man would just let him in; he didn't want to have to draw attention to them. Well, no attention yet.

Click to reveal..

Just in case you want a roll:

Charisma+Bluff: 1d20+6=14

[jameson (ST)]

"We closed! You late. LATE! You go now, we not open." The Venetian style blinds snapped shut. Isaac could hear footsteps shuffling away from the door.

"What's the fuckin' holdup? Jus' kick the damn door in," Art hissed from the corner of the building. "Or have Donny do it. Donny likes to break stuff, don't ya Donny?" Donny nodded, reinforcing Isaac's opinion that Raucous was probably the smarter of the two sidekicks.

Click to reveal..

(13:54:07) ChatBot: (jameson) rolls 1d20 and gets 17.

[z-Isaac Ward]

Isaac scowled at the closed blinds. So much for starting this the nice way. Art's hissed remarks didn't help his mood either. "Be my guest, Donny," he said, moving to one side and waving the big man at the door.

"Raucous, com're," he called his dog, not wanting him to be right there when Donny started his assault. He stepped back far enough that they wouldn't get caught by the breaking glass and waited for Donny to exercise his specialty.

[jameson (ST)]

Donny shrugged and simply pulled on the door. The metal began to shriek and twist. Spiderweb cracks formed in the glass near the handle and quickly spread throughout before the glass shattered completely and rained out of the frame. Donny kept pulling at the door until Art said, "Fuck Donny, leave off it. Ya broke tha damn glass, it good enough." Art pushed past the large man and into the store, "Mistah Paik, I knows yer 'ere, an' you know you owe me my money. How much more we gotta break?" He stuck his head back out, "Donny watch for the police, Isaac get yer ass in 'ere."

[z-Isaac Ward]

"Heel," Isaac murmured to Raucous, "and watch the glass." Isaac followed Art, stepping carefully through the frame. As he entered the battlezone, he shut down his worries and concerns. He stopped minding his dog, knowing the big animal could take care of himself. Without his awareness of it, he hunched slightly, his muscles preparing for an assault. His nostrils flared slightly as he drew in the scents of the cleaners and chemicals used. His eyes flicked around, seeking trouble before it came. His solid fingers closed into very solid fists, ready to emit punishment. The animal - the human one - was ready to fight.

They moved deeper into the store, looking for Paik. Isaac and Raucous flanked Art, a low growl coming from Raucous. He was tense, but willingly followed his pack leader into this strangeness.

They found Paik behind his counter, the bat already held up. He hadn't bothered calling the cops and his face was set in defiant lines. Were Isaac actually Isaac at the moment, he might admire the little man's spunk. But he wasn't Isaac, not right now and his gray eyes were as empty as a tiger's. "No pay!" Paik shouted, his voice strident. "You go!"

"That's not the way this works, old man," Art said, casually lighting up a cigarette. "You pay or Isaac here redecorates. It'd be real bad if you had to explain to all your ritzy customers why all their nice clean clothes got shit on by a dog."

[jameson (ST)]

To his credit the little Chinese man ... Chinese? Maybe Thai? Vietnamese? ... came out swinging. Unfortunately for him he was neither fast enough or strong enough. Isaac sidestepped and grabbed the bat on its way by. His fist moved of its own volition and slammed into the Paik's gut. The man's breath poofed out and he hit the floor like a sack of laundry, the bat forgotten.

"Daddy!" somebody cried from behind the counter, behind the curtain that separated the front of the business from the workings out back. The cloth twitched and a young woman, pretty but far from beautiful, dashed out to Paik's side. "You monsters! You bastards!" she screamed at Isaac and Art.

"Your father knew what would happen honey. Give us the money and we'll go away, if not ... well I'm sure we can be very convincing." Art's sneer was practiced and menacing, but the real threat was Isaac and the girl spared only a glance at Art.

"No ...*cough*, we no have money." Paik managed around his ragged gasping.

"Well, that is a problem then." Art squatted down, "You don't pay and we've got a problem, you can't pay, and we have to find something to take in trade." He reached out and roughly grabbed the young Miss Paik's chin, "Maybe you can pay off your father's debt?"

[z-Isaac Ward]

A shiver of unease passed through Isaac. Many men had things they couldn't stomach, and this was one for Isaac. He was still in the animal mindset, but this wasn't usual for animals. This kind of assault was mostly reserved for humans. Raucous' growl faltered as Isaac's sense of menace faded.

Isaac stepped around the counter, brushing past Art and the girl. Raucous was growling again, but from anxiety, his body shaking as he sensed Isaac's unease. He clung to Isaac's side, stepping on Mr. Paik and bulling past his daughter. With effort, Isaac forced himself to calmness and hit the 'tender' key on the register. "There's some cash here," he growled, pulling out all the bills. He pulled out the tray and added, "And some credit card receipts. They got money. They just have to get it for you."

He wondered how much Art had been milking them for - the rules said only take what they could afford, but Art was a dumb fuck. Like here, this situation: if nothing else, Art could try to get them to let him launder some money for them, or take the shop itself. Instead, he was angling for some unwilling pussy. What a fuckin' retard.

[jameson (ST)]

Art looked up at Isaac, his eyes narrowing dangerously, "How much they got?" Isaac counted just under two hundred dollars. Art shoved the girl back and strode over grabbing the money from Isaac. He looked down at Mr. Paik and his daughter, "You better have tha rest in two weeks, all of it, or I won't be leavin' here 'till I get whats I want."

Breathing a little easier out of relief Isaac started around the counter again to follow Art. He wasn't prepared when the girl suddenly grabbed up the discarded bat and, scrambling to her feet, took an overhead swing at the back of Art's head. "You'll never touch me again you bastard!" The bat connected solidly and surprisingly hard, the was a wet thwack and a slight spray of blood and Art went down almost instantly.

Click to reveal..

To hit (+0)

(14:31:08) ChatBot: (Jameson) rolls 1d20 and gets 18.

toughness (+1) vs DC 17 (lethal)

(14:33:38) ChatBot: (Jameson) rolls 1d20 and gets 2.

Result = 3 = fail by 14 = staggered, disabled, stunned

Well crap, didn't expect that to work so well...

[z-Isaac Ward]

It went to shit so fast. Raucous barked angrily at the sudden violence and smell of blood, waiting for Isaac's command. The man wasn't ready for the dog to attack, so said nothing to him. Isaac spun on her, his fist clenched. He swung at the girl with savage and startlingly quiet fury. The back of his big fist was aimed at her face, looking for the quick take-down.

Click to reveal..

Isaac's attack: 1d20+6=21

If he hits, Damage DC is 18.

[jameson (ST)]

CRACK!

Blood fountained almost immediately from the girls mashed nose. The impact threw the girl backwards and to the floor all but unconscious. MadDog looked down at her and then to Art, the blood from the made man's head was starting to form a small pool of deep crimson on the floor. He looked at Mr. Paik who had already scrambled over to his daughter and was cradling the young woman in his arms, tears in his eyes. "P-p-please, no kill us..." he pleaded pathetically.

Click to reveal..

toughness +0 vs DC 18

(09:38:33) ChatBot: (Jameson) rolls 1d20 and gets 7.

Result = fail by 11 = staggered, stunned

[z-Isaac Ward]

"I'm not gonna kill you," Isaac snarled, bending down to scoop up the money. He was angry at practically everyone involved, so mad he practically vibrated with tension. No more jobs from Art - assuming Art survived this at all. As he exchanged the keys in in Art's pocket with the money, he added, "Your stupid bitch of a daughter did that already. Were I really a part of Art's group, I'd have to kill you. Luckily for you, I'm just the hired muscle. So I'm going to get Art-" He bent down and scooped up Art in a fireman's carry. "And get him out of here. You should do the same for yourselves. Get out of town, if you want to have grandkids."

Turning, he walked for the door, then paused in the entryway. "And get that girl on a softball team. Jesus." With that, he stepped out into the night, snapping at Donny, "Get the car started! We need to get Art somewhere. Fuck!"

"What-"

"Do it!" Isaac hissed, tossing him the keys.

Donny scrambled to open the sliding door, then headed for the shop. "I'm going to destroy them-"

"Fuck, no!" Isaac growled as he placed Art carefully in the back. He could feel Art's blood clinging wetly to his skin through his shirt. "Fuck that's a lot of blood. Fuck! Let's save Art first. Jesus, what a fuckin' mess. Raucous, inside, stay on the floor." He dug out Art's phone and climbed in the front, sparing a glance back to make sure the big dog was obeying him. "Donny, c'mon!"

"Wait, I've got an idea!" Donny grabbed a fifth of whiskey from under the seat and started to unscrew the top.

It wasn't hard to guess where this was going. "Fuck! We don't have time for that, and neither does Art. We have to get him somewhere safe before he dies!" Isaac pounded on the door. "Let's go!"

Reluctantly, Donny abandoned his efforts to make a Maltov cocktail, coming around and getting in the driver's seat. "Where we goin'?"

"I'll find that out. Just drive and don't get us pulled over, for fuck's sake," Isaac said, starting to go through Art's contact list. He found a name that he'd heard before in relation to the Shreveson's operations and dialed it. Hoping he was calling someone in the know, he pressed the phone to his ear and waited.

[jameson (ST)]

"Art, what the fuck do you want? Did that damn dry cleaner finally fucking pay up?" The voice on the other end of the phone was tinged with irritation. Isaac didn't recognize the voice, but the phone said it belonged to somebody named, "Jimmy."

"Umm, ah ..."

"What? Who the hell is this?" Jimmy's tone began further colored by confusion.

"I'm Isaac, Art's hurt. Bad I think," Isaac replied.

"Do I look like a doctor? Take him to the hospital," Jimmy retorted. "Or did that jackass go an' get himself shot?"

[z-Isaac Ward]

"Baseball bat to the back of his head," Isaac said calmly. "If you want me to take him to a hospital, I will. But I didn't want to be the guy who took him to the hospital if that's going to lead to all kinds of uncomfortable questions."

Isaac stared out the window, wondering what he'd done wrong to earn this mess. "Just tell me what to do with him, Jimmy, and I'll get it done." He hoped that he was clear that his offer was open only for taking care of Art and he wasn't offering his services for free for anything else.

[jameson (ST)]

Jimmy grunted when Isaac told him what happened to Art. "Fuck. Christ how the fuck did that happen?"

"Paik's daughter happened, that's what!" Isaac explained.

"Shit, the girl fucking cold cocked him with a bat? Christ, sign her up for fuckin' softball. OK. Alright. Isaac, get him to a hospital, the doc ain't gonna be able to do nuthin' for 'im with a crushed skull." Isaac grunted and was about to hang up when Jimmy added, "Drop his ass off and you and Donny get gone like the cops was afta you. Git yo' asses back here."

[z-Isaac Ward]

"Where's here?" Isaac asked and received directions in reply. He grabbed a scrap of paper and jotted them down, then hung up. "The nearest hospital, Donny," he ordered the man next to him. They drove in silence, Isaac gripping the phone tightly. God, what a fuckin' mess.

Donny drove them to the nearest hospital, pulling up under the arch-covered entrance to the emergency room. Isaac got out and keeping his head down, pulled Art out of the back. He put him on the concrete, even as the nurses inside saw him and started to run out. Isaac climbed back in the truck and they left Art in the hands of the medical establishment.

"Need to dump the car," Isaac said. "Got some wheels?"

"Back at Art's," the moron replied.

"Fuckin' figures," Isaac sighed. "Let's roll." Donny got them back there, and they switched cars, wiping the SUV down. They should have been doing that from the start, but Donny didn't consider such things and Isaac didn't really have much experience with this kind of illegal activity.

They drove over to where Jimmy had sent them. Isaac was frazzled and annoyed by the time they arrived, so his glower was even more fantastic than normal.

[jameson (ST)]

Donny's beat up piece of shit Mercury Tracer was probably the kind of car that would never die. It wasn't that it was the definition of lasting quality, it was more likely that its ceasing to function would have made a tiny, infinitesimal really, improvement to the overall state of New York City traffic that obviously, as a result of Murphy's Law, it would continue to plug along for years to come. Thankfully it was also a hatchback. Raucous had fit in gamely enough with and Isaac and he bumped along as Donny drove to Jimmy's. They parked at the corner of the street, the Thicker Slice Deli was halfway to the center of the block and they turned down the alley way heading for the side entrance where delivery's were taken.

Inside they found Jimmy and a couple others sitting at a folding card table, chips and cards cast about seemingly at random. Jimmy turned from the table, the cards in his hand close to his chest, "Donny, you moron, how you doin'?"

Donny smiled happily and replied, "Good boss, well, not so good, Art got beat up."

"No fuckin' shit." He rolled his eyes and looked at Isaac, "You must be Isaac, the fighter. What the fuck happened?"

[z-Isaac Ward]

Raucous leaned against Issac, the dog's presence comforting as Isaac started to speak. He'd never been good at this kind of thing but he did his best. He was painfully aware of the dried blood that had soaked through his black shirt and the blood and snot on the back of his hand where he'd hit the girl. Next to this rich-looking, clean man, he looked like what he was: hired muscle that had fucked up simple operation.

"Paik's daughter hit him after Art told her she could pay her dad's debt with pussy. I'd found some money, and Art was ready to leave with it-" Consternation flooded his features as he recalled where the money was. Fuckin' terrific. I left his guy's money on Art, to be taken as evidence. Fuckin' brilliant. "When she - the daughter - got up an' whammed him in the back o' the skull. I put her down, uh, not um, fatally, just a punch, and got Art out of there." He paused and added, "Oh and I had to put a fist into the old man, before Art was hurt. He wasn't going to pay up."

Isaac stopped, his short tale done. He'd thought about protecting Art but the fuck didn't deserve it. Jimmy wasn't sure he'd ever get a job again and they might even bar him from the fights. He didn't like working, but he had family to feed. He needed some work.

[jameson (ST)]

Jimmy the Slicer scrubbed at his face in consternation. Isaac wasn't aware of the why behind that appellation, but he was pretty certain it wasn't simply because he was good with cold cuts. "So you got the money then?" he asked Isaac.

"Well, actually," he shrugged, in for a penny in for a pound, "Art has it at the moment."

"Arty's got your money boss, jus' like he was s'posed to!" Donny chimed in cheerfully, oblivious to the problem with the idea of Art having the money.

"Fuck me. Christ on his cross! Why tha fuck didn't you take the money off 'im before you dropped 'im at the Hospital? I can assume that you dropped 'im at a hospital and not in the band aid isle of the local Walgreen's?"

"Yeah, we dropped him and took off, the ER staff was coming out as we bailed." Isaac hastily added, "And we ditched the SUV. Took Donny's piece of shit tracer over here." Donny nodded in agreement.

"Well shit, thank tha lord for small favors." Jimmy tossed his cards, now crumpled into a rather unseemly shape, to the table. "Bobby, think the Paik's will bring the law inta this?"

One of the other men at the table shook his head, "Not a shot in hell, she bashed in the back of his head as he was leaving, she'd prolly get attempted murder, maybe a plea for manslaughter. That's assumin' Art don't croak."

Jimmy nodded, "Good. OK, call Art's brother and let him know what happened. Tell him the family's here as usual for 'im." The Slicer looked at Isaac, "I suppose you didn't completely fuck the dog," Raucous barked which made Jimmy laugh before continuing. "Still this shit sticks like ... like, the Hudson in August. Last thing I need is you gettin a conscious an' tellin' the cops. That ain't gonna be a problem is it?"

[z-Isaac Ward]

Isaac quirked an eyebrow. "Call the cops and tell 'em what? That I beat up an old man and rearranged his cute daughter's face for a hundred an' eighty-four bucks? I'd be in more trouble than Paik."

Jimmy stared at him. "It don't bother you to beat up women and old men?"

Isaac blinked, wondering if there was a trick question in there. Frowning, he tried to see the trap, but couldn't. With a shrug, he said, "She didn't have to attack Art. We were leavin'. When she did that, she crossed a line. I was supposed to beat up non-paying clients, not watch them pummel Art to death."

"But she was a girl," Jimmy probed.

"She was," Isaac agreed, his tone mild, almost bored. For Isaac, that was the end of it. Her gender made no difference to him. Her attack - especially give the viciousness with which it had been delivered - had made her an opponant. At that point, she was just a danger. Isaac's world was blessedly simple.

"It really don't bother you," Jimmy mused. "I could have uses for that."

Isaac dug out a scrap of paper and scrawled his number on it. It was a crappy pay-as-you-go phone, but it worked. "If you need me," he said. "That all?"

[jameson (ST)]

Jimmy took the paper and tucked it into his coat, "OK kid, good deal. Yeah, I'm done with ya." He looked at Donny who had gotten a slice of balogna and was chewing on it with a blank look of his face. "Donny, what have I told you about getting into the food?"

Donny looked up, "Umm ... not to?" He looked at the bologna in his hands and then at Jimmy, "Oh. Umm ... sorry?"

"Idiot. Drive Isaac wherever it is he wants to go, and then go home you moron." Jimmy rolled his eyes. Donny stuffed the rest of the cold cut into his mouth and wiped his hands on his shirt, which explained why it looked like he'd rolling in grease, as he walked toward the door. Isaac turned to go but Jimmy said behind him, "For the record kid, ya did 'bout as good as one can espect given the sit'iation."

[z-Isaac Ward]

Isaac gave Jimmy a hint of a smile and a nod at the compliment. He didn't wait for Donny and the big man clambered after him. "Where to-?"

"No where," Isaac said, pulling his jacket around him. "I'm going to walk home." He rubbed at the dried blood on the back of his hand, removing the only highly-visible sign of his illegal activities. His black shirt hid the blood on his shoulder; he should be fine.

Kneeling next to Raucous, he spoke softly to the dog for a moment, reassuring him. Before he rose to his feet, he secured Raucous' lead. Again, it was for show, but necessary given leash laws.

Together, men and beast headed for home.

[jameson (ST)]

Donny looked confused, "But. Umm. But, Jimmy said to drive you where ya wanted to go? How'm I gonna do that if you walk?"

Isaac gave Donny a patient look that took the last reserves of his tolerance just to produce. "You don't have to take me, I'm going to walk. Jimmy will understand and you won't get in trouble."

"Ummm," Donny thought about it and nodded, "OK!" He got into his car and drove off leaving Isaac and his dog to find their own way home.

[z-Isaac Ward]

Isaac blew a sigh of relief as Donny accepted his logic and left him alone. "Come on," he said to Raucous. "Let's go home."

Yay! Raucous barked happily as he 'bowed' playfully. Home was a good place for the Akita/Sheppard mix. It was full of the rest of the pack and food. He bounced in step with Isaac for the first hundred feet, then settled into a wide-ranging back and forth run which covered about eight times as much ground as Isaac did. It allowed Raucous to smell forty times more than Isaac did, which made him happy.

They walked for a while, and the mixed residential and commercial became commercial, then industrial and back to residential-commercial before Isaac stopped at his usual shop. The man knocked to Isaac and pointedly didn't look down at the dog leashed to his waist. It was the only store that let Isaac get away with this stunt and as a result, they had all of Isaac's business. He bought a fifty-pound bag of cat food - what he was low on tonight - and a box of fried chicken with a side of cole slaw. He added a pound of sliced beef and a jug of orange juice to his order and had dinner for everyone in the pack who needed it. As usual, the man didn't say anything, just rang him up and stuffed everything but the cat food in two bags. Isaac tossed the bag on his shoulder and stuck his hands through the bags' loops. With a soft word to Raucous, he left and continued on the last leg toward home.

As he entered his 'neighborhood', he relaxed more. There were fewer people around here and Isaac knew this area. This was home turf. He knew the buildings, their empty rhythms, the way that they loomed out of the darkness before him and were swallowed by it again. Wide streets had once granted access to semis, but now were the byways of desolation. Buildings stood locked tight, in theory, though many doors hung open with no one coming to fixed the broken latches. Rats scurried around the corners and shadows, sniffing out their next meal. It was a rundown urban jungle but for all the trash littering the ground and the constant stink of the East River, it was his. He passed a few bums who lived here, too; like all the animals around, they knew not to bother him.

Suddenly, he stopped. Raucous had stopped, too, because they both sensed it.

There were strangers on the pack's territory. And there was only one kind of strangers: hostile intruders. With his teeth bared, Isaac set his groceries on a closed dumpster and went to investigate and repel, if necessary.

[jameson (ST)]

Continues in [Prologue] Isaac and Tomoko