[Jack Fontaine]

Nobody Don't you know who I think I am? + Isaiah Moore

There had been complaints, reports and rumours for some time about a metahuman that wasn't actually human. A dog that was the size of an SUV. It was preposterous of course, Jack knew better than most that animals did not develop abilities. Why that was had been unclear, but some aspect of metahuman abilities meant that they never manifested in less intelligent creatures. No, this dog was either a shifter, or was being manipulated by someone that could affect it's size. The former was more likely. Shifters were fairly common forms of metahumans, in one way or another, but Jack had a hunch that something was different in this case. Information so far had been relatively scarce, which suggested two things. One, this person didn't really know what they were doing, they were fighting crime when they saw it, mostly without rhyme or reason. And two, there was something more complicated than a shifter involved. The police had wised up to shifters real fast, when something walks into an alleyway and a guy walks out whistling innocently, it's probably cause he just changed form in there. Jack had been able to piece together various pieces of information however, and was fairly certain whoever it was would be here tonight. Stepping back carefully, Jack avoided the heavy footsteps of a burly man who threw them a dirty look. It was not totally unexpected, Jack didn't exactly fit in here. They were short, skinny, and clearly much younger than the majority of the clientele of this particular establishment. Though calling it an establishment was probably a little generous. Come to think of it, calling the men here a clientele was a little generous. The aroma of body odour, sour beer and wet dog filled the space, a large room dominated by the pit that had been constructed in the centre of the floor. Jack had been moderately surprised to discover that this business was still operating, they rarely paid much attention to anything as pedestrian as dog fighting. Even so, underground metahuman fights seemed to be the current trend, not dog fights. They held a beer in their hand, though they hadn't drank any of it they had found a dim corner to pour out half of it on the floor to make sure they didn't attract too much unwanted attention. Finding an out of the way location Jack settled in to wait, wondering whether their prey would turn up tonight, and whether they would do so by battering down the wall, or by sneaking in as a potential contestant. They wrinkled their nose, they'd almost taken a sip of the beer.

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[Isaiah Moore]

Got a feeling that I'm going under + Jack Fontaine

Of all the underground dog fighting arenas he'd seen over the past few months, this one was both the least impressive and most upsetting. They were in a warehouse, although it could have been more rightly described as an over-sized room; a moldy, musty smell permeated the gathering and hung in the air along with the stale cigarette smoke and stench of cheap beer. There were more people in the room than it could comfortably accommodate, from what he could see from his current vantage point. He was off to the side behind a gate with other "trainers," their dogs all in cages, waiting to enter the pit when the fighting began. The pit itself was small, ugly, and poorly designed. Maybe 80 square feet of concrete in the middle of the room was partitioned off and surrounded by a flimsy barbwire fence. The viewing area outside of the arena was not raised in any way, meaning nothing more than that frail barrier the only thing separating the spectators from the competitors. A stupid design, Isaiah thought to himself, but it made his job here tonight that much easier. A series of studio lights were scattered randomly around the fighting pit, illuminating the show for the viewers and impeding the vision of the dogs. Isaiah shot a glance over towards Cesar, locked away in a small cage, surrounded by snapping and anxious dogs in other carriers. He kept his gaze steady and wished for the millionth time that his power gave him some sort of telepathic connection with his dogs. How badly he wanted to be able to explain things to Cesar, to assure him that they were doing this for the greater good and it would all be over soon... but that wasn't an option. And still, this wasn't their first time doing this. Isaiah had to believe that the trust he'd established with his pittie meant Cesar had confidence in his master. He heard a sort of bell start to go off and a whoop of excitement from the crowd. His blood immediately began to boil. He hated dog fighting, fucking hated it, and being here almost made him into a nervous wreck. It's for the greater good, he admonished himself again, the phrase becoming almost like a religious mantra in his mind. The positive part of this was that Isaiah had coordinated to make sure that Cesar was in the first pairings of dogs to enter the ring, so no animals were going to needlessly suffer this time. As a referee came to hoist Cesar's cage out of the bunch and put him in the arena, Isaiah slinked around and tried to get out of sight while still keeping an eye on the ring. Whenever he was around dogs, Isaiah's power felt like a massive rush of water being held back by a dam. It sizzled at the edge of his consciousness, like hands that wanted to reach out and grab hold of anything canine that they could find. It was a constant effort to restrain that impulse. Now he let it go. He locked his eyes on Cesar and focused on the animal's energy, feeling the strength of his muscles, the beating of his heart, the heave of his lungs. Isaiah let Cesar's essence sweep into his mind, and his mind reached out for places of raw power that could be improved. Modified. Pumped up. Before Cesar had even left his cage, he was already 1.5 times bigger and stronger than when he was put in it. It was impossible to hear the sounds of ripping flesh, expanding bone, and elongating muscle over the roar of the crowd, but soon it would be evident to everyone. When Cesar entered the ring he was thrown in with another pit bull type dog, this one larger than Cesar when Isaiah's power was not at work. In 15 seconds Cesar had exceeded the other dog's size. In another 30 seconds, he was approaching the size of a miniature horse. The joyful cheers and jeers from the spectators was slowly being replaced by confused "huh?"s and "what's going on?"s. Isaiah didn't need to use his power to its full extent- Cesar was going to be just fine without getting to the size of a Chevy Tahoe. He was about the a quarter of the way to his full potential now, maybe a little bit smaller than a Toyota Camry. Still, he was terrifying. Shrieks went up from the crowd as some inevitably began to scramble for a way out. Isaiah whistled. Cesar's ears perked up and Isaiah whistled again, a command he only whistled in these very particular situations. Cesar pushed the other dog out of the way and lunged into the crowd, ripping through the barbwire enclosure like it was made of toilet tissue, claws barred, teeth snarling, a horrible growl emanating from his muzzle. When Cesar was done with things, none of these men would ever be around to dog fight again.

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[Jack Fontaine]

Nobody Don't you know who I think I am? + Isaiah Moore

Two dogs were being placed into the pit, at least, that's what Jack had gathered, they had to crane their neck somewhat to see anything, and Jack wasn't exactly tall so that didn't help. Most of their view was obscured by broad backs and balding heads. What was it with the majority of the clientele being balding and possessing notable beer paunches? Presumably it was something to do with a mid-life crisis, fragile masculinity or toxic machismo. Or some combination of the three. Cheers sounded from the crowd in the centre of the room, heralding the start of the fight. Or at least, it was supposed to. It wasn't long before the cheers turned to muttering, then raised voices, then eventually shouts of panic. These shouts intensified as the crush grew around the pit, the men at the back pushing forwards to find out what was going on while those who knew what was happening were desperate to get as far away from it as possible. Eventually the cause of the commotion was clear. A ridged, spiked and boney back was soon visible above the crowd, and there were screams as several men were flung into the air by the impact of the beast's charge. Jack still couldn't see properly, only able to catch glimpses of the creature between the panicked and scattering crowd. What they saw was terrifying however. The thing no longer looked like a dog, but more like something dreamed up by the creators of supernatural. Spikes and bony ridges drew blood from men that got too close and hulking muscles moved like leviathans beneath it's flesh. They were surprised to see that it appeared to have developed a prehensile tail as well and mused over whether the creature was simply able to instinctively control this new limb. Jack frowned, the dog was getting awfully close, and it clearly did not have much in the way of mercy. They reached into a pocket pulling out several items. The first two were small flesh coloured cones that they slipped into their ears. The next was a small cylindrical item, about the same size as a thick marker pen. It had a rough, unfinished look, with several buttons on one side and wires hastily tucked into the bottom of the cylinder. They left their last resort in their pocket. Hopefully they wouldn't have to use that. They weren't even sure if it would work yet. A man, no, a body, was flung in their general direction, sliding along the floor and forcing Jack to jump out of the way. The body fetched up against the wall with a nasty crack, and Jack winced in posthumous sympathy. They scrambled back, trying to keep out of the way, and found some higher ground, a row of metal barrels that had been lined up against the wall. Awkwardly they scrambled up on top of it, and finally found what they were looking for. The only man in the room that looked like he knew what was going on. Jack smirked. "Gotcha."

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[Isaiah Moore]

Got a feeling that I'm going under + Jack Fontaine

He fought the pit of anxiety that swelled and sat heavy as a bowling ball in the pit of his stomach. He ignored the cool sweat dripping off his face. Isaiah wasn't a violent person, and he certainly wasn't the type who derived pleasure from the pain and suffering of others. He focused on his breathing, keeping the in, out, in, out steady and calm. He kept the ultimate goal firmly planted in his mind, which was of course the elimination of dog fighting altogether. The screams of men gasping their final breaths almost seemed far away, even as he fixed his gaze firmly upon Cesar's mutated form and the people he was throwing around like rag dolls. Some had pulled out guns- these types were always illegally carrying guns- but even if they got off a few shots on Cesar, it would take nothing short of a few AK-47s to to bring him down in his current form. He was pleased to see that there was less blood this time overall than some of the previous rings he had busted up. Pit bulls naturally had a bite and tear attack type, something attributed to the nature of their evolutionary history, and Isaiah had spent a lot of time teaching Cesar to use the force of his head and paws instead of just his teeth. In Isaiah's mind this was a more ethical form of maiming. At the very least, it was a kind that resulted in broken bones, snapped spines and internal bleeding as opposed to missing arms, severed arteries, and pools of blood. It was infinitely easier for him to watch. This would be over soon. The thought came as a comfort to Isaiah. He didn't like doing this, and he wished there were other ways, but other options were available to him? The police were inefficient and indifferent. Politicians were even worse, and even if passing legislation that "cracked down" on illegal dog fighting was easy moral grandstanding, nothing ever seemed to change. His parents had been advocating against the practice since before he was even born, and yet the problem was arguably worse today than it had ever been. No, whatever foreign country or mad scientist or whatever had unleashed the biochemical agent had created an incredible power within him, and he planned to use it for what he believed was good. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the carnage. Yep, definitely over soon. In another minute or so he would give the whistle to Cesar and call off the attack. Then he would cut off his power and watch as Cesar shook off the effects of his ability like a snake shedding its extra skin. The body count on the floor was at least 25 to 30 people; some were positions in admittedly funny positions, sprawled out in awkward positions against walls and on tables. Some were spasming lightly, moaning in pain... Isaiah felt his breath cut short in his throat when his eyes made their way to the far side of the room. There was a person standing there, eyes fixed directly on him. This person's face didn't convey any sense of dread or panic. If anything they looked bored, or at the very most intrigued. Fuck, the thought hit him like a freight train. Another meta. And before he could do anything else, Cesar turned his sights on the Meta, his prehensile tail snapping around him like a slaver's whip, and lunged at the person with a snarl.

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[Jack Fontaine]

Nobody Don't you know who I think I am? + Isaiah Moore

Climbing on top of the kegs had been a bad idea thought Jack as they threw themselves out of the way of the lethal intentions of the enormous dog. They added nearly three feet to the height of their fall, and Jack was hardly accustomed to physical exertion at the best of times, let alone under duress. They hit the floor hard, all of their breath flying out of them. Unfortunately, the cylinder in their hand decided now would be a good time to do the same thing, clattering away across the floor. They swore and scrabbled after it, before the dogs snout caught them a glancing blow and threw them against the wall. Before they had been gasping for air, now Jack felt like they were suffocating. It was like being caught a glancing blow by a car. They slid down the wall, fortunately the blow had been indirect enough that it didn’t seem to have broken anything and they hadn’t lost consciousness. Or unfortunately, as the dog recovered with alarming speed and turned it’s unwelcome attention towards the slight figure propped up against the wall. Without thinking Jack’s hand went to their pocket, pulling out the device that was supposed to be for emergencies, but then if this wasn’t an emergency then they didn’t know what was. After all, their initial plan was lying several feet away, and a rampaging dog monster was coming their way, with no mercy in those mad eyes. There was a click, almost lost amidst the screams, groans and roars of the warehouse, then the dog, over a ton of solid muscle and bone, was flying through the air. The end of the cylinder was open now, with faint wisps of vapour escaping from it. Unfortunately the device was a one shot, Jack could see that the dog, while clearly stunned, was already clambering back to it’s feet. It was enough time to retrieve the other device they had brought with them however, and they scrambled undignifiedly across the floor before scooping it up and holding it above their head. They called out, their voice hoarse and weak after the successive blows they had endured. "I think we should end this here don't you?" They were speaking directly to the metahuman stood across the room.

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[Isaiah Moore]

Got a feeling that I'm going under + Jack Fontaine

His hands balled into a fist as he watched Cesar and the metahuman engaged in a lethal dance. It didn't take but a moment for Isaiah to decide that the metahuman didn't have an Auxiliary or Striker powerset, which had been his biggest worry. Judging by the way they did everything possible to avoid Cesar's blows, their power didn't give them any sort of enhanced strength or damage control ability. Isaiah hadn't noticed any sort of fireballs or lightning strikes flung Cesar's way either- low likelihood this meta was a Blaster. And then when it seemed like Cesar was going in for the kill, the meta activated some device that Isaiah hadn't seen, but must have been holding in their hand. Fucking Gadgets. Cesar was blown back like he'd been punched by a stick of dynamite, a pitiful yelp of pain emitting from his jaws as he hit the ground hard. Isaiah cried out as Cesar struggled to his feet, clearly stunned and disoriented, shutting his mouth just as quickly as he'd opened it to yell. He was trying to project a persona of confidence, like this battle was something he and Cesar had been through a million times, even though underneath his nerves raced through his body at a million miles a second. A series of plans began to formulate in his mind, although each filled with major perils. Isaiah had no idea what other kind of tricks this person had up their sleeve. Fuck Gadgets, he thought to himself for probably the fiftieth time in the last thirty seconds. The person's voice was weak, their breath labored from the exertion of their scuffle with Cesar, but their words rang in Isaiah's mind as loud as a siren. There was an edge to it, a sort of confidence that made Isaiah wary. The meta seemed slightly put out, but at the same time they could have been bored and agitated more than genuinely afraid. Plus the tone of their voice made Isaiah think that they had some sort of Ace of Spades on hand for last resorts. Isaiah did not want to incite the last resort. He let out a whistle, one he had trained both Cesar and Athena on since they were puppies- return and guard. Cesar hesitated slightly and looked back Isaiah's way, clearly torn between wanting to press the attack and wanting to obey his master. Isaiah repeated the whistle in a stern tone (could whistles display emotions like that? Isaiah thought they could) and reiterated the command with a hand movement, and Cesar bounded to his side in an instant, his body turned lengthwise in front of Isaiah, separating him from the Gadget across the room. At his current size Cesar's hip was about level with Isaiah's nose, although he knew the dog could get much larger if needed. Isaiah hoped it wouldn't come to that. "Stopping sounds like a pretty good plan to me, thanks," Isaiah called back to him, his voice much steadier than the other meta's. He hoped that they interpreted his tone as confidence. "Although I should get my dog to finish you. What kind of asshole shows up to an underground dog fight? What the hell is wrong with you?"

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[Jack Fontaine]

Nobody Don't you know who I think I am? + Isaiah Moore + wearing

So it wasn't mental control, the dog might have been powered up by the strange man's ability, but it seemed that the monster was responding to aural commands, not mental ones. That and it had hesitated when it's master called it back. There was still instinct there, still an animal hidden within that monstrous exterior. Fortunately that animal obeyed, and the enormous creature loped back to it's master. Said master sounded confident as the shouted across the room at Jack, his voice carrying over the groans of men in pain. Jack cocked their head at the perceived hypocrisy. "You're here." They looked around, letting the hand holding the device fall back to their side. The room was still full of men, although they were no longer crowded around the crude pit in the centre. Now their broken and bleeding bodies were scattered about the concrete floor. One or two were attempting to crawl away from the confrontation between the two metahumans, though most were moving only a little, if at all. The dogs seemed less than happy at their continue captivity, there were at least a dozen caged beside the pit, most were barking or growling. One was cowering whimpering in a corner of it's cage and another was snapping at the metal wires of it's prison. They were clearly beyond distressed, perhaps by the fate they had nearly been consigned to, and definitely by the massive dog that had saved them from it. Jack took a step forward. "And you let your own dog be put in the pit. Oh, and then it tried to kill me. But I'm the asshole?"

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[Isaiah Moore]

Got a feeling that I'm going under + Jack Fontaine

The comment was so dumb he wondered if they were really that dense or just being difficult. "Uhh, I'm here to put an end to it, dumbass," Isaiah called across the way to his new friend. He tried to inject a dripping, hateful sarcasm into every syllable. Even as the words escaped his lips he realized that his voice didn't have the right natural timbre to sound anything other than petulant when he spoke in that way. Oh well. "I'm here to make sure monsters like you don't ever get to hurt any animals ever again." He was surprised by the passion in his own voice... come to think of it, this was the first time he was ever really speaking aloud about what he had been doing at dog fighting rings these past few months. No one had ever lived long enough or stuck around long enough to question him about it. He took a surreptitious glance at the watch on his wrist. Six minutes. He had been using his power only six minutes. He would need to start wrapping things up soon. Damn, everything had happened so fast. He felt like barely 45 seconds had elapsed. A kind of eerie calm set over him whenever he used his power, even though physically it was very taxing for him to pump up the dogs (or even just one by themselves). Not only was it painful for him, it was dangerous for the dogs. If he used his power on them any more than 15-17 minutes or so, their nervous systems would begin to get overwhelmed and they would die. Isaiah had already learned that the hard way. "I put my dog in the pit because I knew I could control the situation," he responded to their next ridiculous statement. "Not because I wanted to watch him tear these other dogs to shreds, which he absolutely could have." Isaiah swept his arms around himself in a circle, motioning towards the scared, agitated and barking dogs that rattled in cages behind them. "Every one of these dogs is going to be rehabilitated, adopted out, and placed into loving homes where they will never have to fight again." He hesitated, considering his options. To disengage would show weakness, but to press the attack would be foolish. Isaiah had literally no idea of what the metahuman had hidden up their sleeve. "How did you knock my dog back like that?" he asked them, figuring he had nothing to lose. "What, do you make dynamite or something? Miniature bombs? Hmm?"

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[Jack Fontaine]

Nobody Don't you know who I think I am? + Isaiah Moore + wearing

Jack rolled their eyes. Unfortunately it seemed that even if they were successful tonight, adding Isaiah to their collection would not provide them with any sparkling wit. You'd think out of three metahumans at least one of them would be able to hold a conversation. 177 was mute, and Coryelle had far too many insecurities. Even on a good day Jack found them boring within a few minutes. Unless Cory was working, there was at least some satisfaction in watching a tool well wielded. "Dynamite?" The mocking disbelief was obvious in Jack's voice. They waggled their hand in the direction of the other meta. "You see this? Still attached. If I'd used dynamite I would be dead right now. That and the amount I'd have needed to lift your pet would probably have put a hole in the wall as well. What is it? Nearly two tons?" They walked a little closer, like the teenager they were, they walked with a perpetual slouch, hands in their pockets. They'd lost their cap in the chaos and their hair was messy and unkempt, slightly greasy from too long without a proper wash. They were pale, not quite waxy, but clearly spent far too much time in front of a computer monitor and out of the sunlight. They seemed entirely in control of the situation, still out of breath, but no longer flustered or concerned. Jack mused over the fact that they were still out of breath, perhaps if they were going to plan more outings like this they should engage in more cardio. They'd been knocked over, not gone for a five mile run. A faint pinging noise broke the silence, and Jack held up one finger to pause the conversation, pulling out a phone from their pocket. It had a similar appearance to the device they had used to throw the dog back across the room, half finished and still at a prototype stage, although this device was always in a constant state of flux, having improvements, upgrades or refinements applied at least weekly, if not daily. It was something of a damning inditement of Jack's generation that the phone was their longest lasting obsession. They turned the screen so Isaiah could see the screen, and the alarm pulsing on it. "That's the cops, they'll be here relatively soon, which gives us two options. Either we continue arguing here and get arrested when they arrive, no doubt bringing a Hero or two" They checked the screen of the phone. "Yup, looks like Paladin is on her way." They continued as though this wasn't a concern, "Or I can help you release these dogs and we can continue this conversation elsewhere. I can explain how I wasn't here for the fighting and how I was just here for you." They shrugged, "If we're arrested I'll be out in six hours, somehow I doubt that will be the case for you. And who know what they'll do to your dog." They glanced over at the cages still full of dogs. "So, shall we?" Clearly the idea that Isaiah might disagree hadn't occurred to them.

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[Isaiah Moore]

Got a feeling that I'm going under + Jack Fontaine

It seemed like a smug sense of superiority was part of the Gadget profile. Isaiah did not appreciate being talked to like he was an idiot. It very well could have been dynamite that the other metahuman had used, as far as Isaiah was concerned. As far as any non-Gadget and non-former military personnel would have been concerned. Although they did have a point about blowing themselves up, along with Cesar and himself... still, how could Isaiah be certain that the Gadget did have some sort of flame and blast resistant suit, or some other technology to shield and protect? That was one of the many problems with Gadgets. It was impossible to tell what kind of tricks they kept up their sleeves... Isaiah had always felt like his own power was an extension of his personality. It was obvious and overt, and it didn't rely on any sort of sleight of hand or subterfuge. It was hard to be inconspicuous with Cesar and Athena when his power was at work on them. There was something honest and sincere about it. Likewise, Isaiah didn't believe in manipulation or mind games or hidden agendas. He wore his heart on his sleeve and did so consciously without shame. Dogs were the same way, and it made him happy to know he was connected to such awesome animals on this level. Granted Isaiah didn't actually know too many powered people in their personal lives, but he assumed he would observe the same thing across different power types. The Gadget was walking towards him and snapped him out of his thoughts. Isaiah reasoned that they couldn't be too far off from his own age; their slouch and the lazy cadence of their voice placed them as a teenager. "About thirty five hundred pounds," Isaiah responded. Close enough to two tons. He ran a hand over Cesar's callused exterior. His heart began to race as the Gadget told him that someone had alerted the heroes and they would be here soon. Every time he'd done this previously it had only been the local police who'd showed up. Isaiah supposed this was just his lucky day to interact with a bunch of metas. Did they really have tracking devices on heroes? Whoever this Gadget meta was, Isaiah was developing a healthy fear of them. He glanced around the assembled dogs in cages and thought for a brief moment. Turning to the Gadget he spoke. "We can leave the dogs here. The police will take them and adopt them out." That's what had happened every other time he had done this. His parents were veterinarians. He had the resources and connections to check on those sorts of things. "They have working relationships with plenty of shelters. The dogs will be fine. I'm more worried about us." He began to pace and found himself getting anxious. What the fuck was he doing out here, anyway? Was he really prepared to be interrogated by a bunch of heroes? He knew them vigilantism was illegal, but it was so common in today's world, and he'd never actually had such a close brush with any real life heroes before. If Paladin was really on the way... fuck. His heart was beating a million miles a minute. He considered the Gadget's offer and decided he really had no other options. Plus, the Gadget had offered answers. If Isaiah was being watched for any reason, he wanted to know. Isaiah let out a whistle command and Cesar laid flat on the ground, allowing Isaiah to swing a leg over Cesar's large body. A spiky bone protruded out of his spine, perfectly positioned for Isaiah to grasp onto. One day he would make a saddle and reins for the dogs, but he hadn't gotten around to it yet. Maybe the Gadget would be inclined to help him if he helped them escape this scenario. He reached a hand out to them and said, "Let's get out of here. You give directions and I'll drive."

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[Jack Fontaine]

Nobody Don't you know who I think I am? + Isaiah Moore + wearing

Jack stared in disbelief in the image offered to them. "You're kidding right?" Clearly the metahuman intended for Jack to climb onto the back of the dog and join them. Although calling it a dog at this point was a decided understatement. The creature was the height of a horse, but squat and broad in a way that made it far more intimidating. And that wasn't even addressing the various spikes, spines and ridges of bone the protruded from its body. It looked more like something out of a twisted Tim Burton fantasy than a household pet. They looked around at the ugly scene. They did not want to climb onto the back of the dog, but they had wasted time convincing the metahuman to listen. Leaving now without them would be a challenge if they were to avoid detection. Leaving custody in six hours was not an idle boast, they still had enough connections with their family that getting out would have been easy, but still inconvenient and frustrating. They released a breath of frustration, "Fine." Stepping hesitantly forward, they gripped a bony ridge then, putting a foot on a spike jutting out from the dog's side, heaved themselves up and threw one leg awkwardly over it's back. They promptly started to slide over the other side, only saving themselves by seizing hold of the metahuman in front's shoulder. Wrapping their arm around his chest and using their other hand to fish the phone out of their pocket, the gestured over his shoulder with said other hand. "That door." The door in question was an enormous metal loading door that promptly crumpled before the dog's weight and power. Jack ducked their head to avoid a concussion as the metal came down around them. They found themselves in a dirty alleyway. "Your dog can climb right?" There was no answer, not a verbal one anyway. Instead Jack found themselves holding on for dear life as the beast went straight up the side of the next building. Despite it's size and weight the thing could move deceptively fast, and they were across the roof of the building and soaring through the air to the next one before Jack could issue any more directions. They landed with a bone shattering thud, and Jack felt the air rush out of them once again. They really needed to do more cardio. They gasped out their next words, "Right, and down." The landing from the roof of the building was if anything more bone shattering than the first, and Jack merely wordlessly gestured over the shoulder of the 'driver'. They ended up beneath an overpass, the distant sound of sirens now clearly audible. Jack fell, rather than climbed off the dog, though they at least managed to avoid the indignity of not landing on their feet. "Right, time to shrink, and fast."

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[Isaiah Moore]

Got a feeling that I'm going under + Jack Fontaine

The wind ripped through his hair and a stupid huge smile spread across his face. Isaiah had never experienced what they called a runner's high- cardio wasn't exactly a pleasant thought for him- but he figured this feeling was pretty damn close. A sense of euphoria pulsed through his veins as the three of them soared through the air, bouncing off of buildings, scaling huge distances like it was absolutely nothing. Isaiah's power had made Cesar's body the pinnacle of physical perfection, a fact which made Cesar's mind giddy with excitement and a sense of purpose. It was the ultimate feedback loop of awesome. It was as if the two of them were one body. The third member of their party was definitely excluded from this "kumbaya" moment. Isaiah couldn't tell for certain because of the way he was facing forward while riding Cesar, but the Gadget seemed to be suffering from a bit of nervousness while Cesar leaped through the night sky like a bird on the breeze. Isaiah laughed as the Gadget gripped their hands painifully into Isaiah's sides, although the wind was so loud Isaiah doubted they heard it. They only spoke to offer directions for an escape route, and Isaiah nudged Cesar lightly this way or that at the Gadget's commands. When the three of them came to a brief stop underneath an overpass in a shadier part of town, reality set back in. Were they being chased? Perhaps the gadget would be able to look at their device (whatever kind of device it was) and tell him if Paladin was en route. When Isaiah turned to ask his new friend, he noticed that they had hid the ground with a thud, and while they didn't fall, the landing didn't exactly look planned or comfortable. Isaiah wondered if they would kiss the ground in gratitude after dismounting Cesar. "Oh, umm... he doesn't really shrink fast," Isaiah said, panic setting in further. The sound of sirens was getting closer. They were going to get caught! "Usually it takes longer for him to shrink back down to normal size than it does for him to grow." But even as the words left his mouth, Isaiah subdued his power. It was like trying to put a cap on an exploding fire hydrant; when Isaiah and Cesar (and Athena when she was around) were in sync like this, reversing it could be exceedingly difficult. The shrinking was working, although slower than he would have liked. Isaiah had been through this many times before and he knew the process well. It was like the air was being let out of Cesar's monstrous frame slowly and unevenly, and the sound of bones crunching and skin tearing and muscles severing rang through the air. When it was all said and done, the large exterior of the dog would remain, like a butterfly molting from a cocoon in reverse, and Isaiah would have to cut the unharmed Cesar in his regular state from within. The flashing lights that turned down onto where they were standing accompanied by the wailing of police sirens told him they were out of time. He flashed a smile to the Gadget. "Hopefully you've got something up your sleeve that can get us out of here."

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[Jack Fontaine]

Nobody Don't you know who I think I am? + Isaiah Moore + wearing

The other metahuman was panicking, Jack could hear it in his voice. Not without reason as well, the sound of sirens was now uncomfortably close. Jack had not yet been pulled by the San Francisco police department, for which they counted themselves lucky. Or would have done had they not been too arrogant to believe in their own luck. They certainly didn't want to be picked up by them now. Getting out of that situation would be easy, but no doubt word would make it back to their father, and that would be far too much of an embarrassment to bear. "Longer to shrink, sounds about right." Jack sounded exasperated and impatient, which was appropriate. Now was not an ideal moment to be wasting time waiting for an animal to shrink. Not with Paladin and a dozen cops on their way to accost them. Fortunately, they should still be heading in the direction of the original commotion. Jack had been too busy holding on for dear life to pay too much attention to their surroundings, but they hadn't seen any gawping passers-by on their hair-raising journey across the rooftops. It was late, and so the streets around here were far from busy. Still, someone must have seen them, and so no doubt it was only a matter of time until the authorities were turned in their direction. "Hmmmmm?" They looked up from the deflating dog, some kind of exoskeleton like transformation perhaps? They had been lost in thought when Isaiah spoke, not really listening or paying attention to what was going on around them. Lights had indeed turned down to approach them and Jack pulled a face, they had thought they would have more time before the police found them. They were accompanied by a young meta and a dog that was clearly still far beyond its natural size. Talking their way out of this one would probably be a stretch. They pulled the other device from their pocket. The one they had been keeping as a backup in the warehouse. This really was experimental, they'd never actually tested it, and they were purely relying on it working first time. Hopefully all of the theory work and calculations that had gone into creating this device would pay off. "Play along." Without further explanation the slender teen creamed and started running away from the young man and his pet, stumbling out into the road and right into the path of the police car. The officer behind the wheel reacted instantly, his eyes wide with surprise as he spun the wheel and slammed on the brakes. With a screech the car came to a halt, just close enough for Jack to place a hand on hood of the car and point back towards their companion. "He's a fucking maniac." Their voice was high, panicked, feminine. The two officers looked at each other in faint amusement and then growing concern as the spotted the mound of flesh that had been a dog. The passenger started to open his door, then the device that Jack had slapped onto the hood of the car finally turned on. The door slammed shut with enough force that it rocked the officer back into his seat. The second one tried his door, only to find it similarly immovable. The small device Jack had placed against the hood of the car was whining, a high pitched, insistent sound, and the electromagnetic current that was now running through the car body made it impossible to open the doors or even for the men inside to aim their weapons. One of them tried, pulling the gun from its holster only to find it irresistibly attracted to the side door. A fortunate side effect of the device was that it seemed to have shut down their radio as well, as evidence when one of them bounced the small plastic device off the dashboard in frustration. Jack smiled, waved, then backed up. Their phone would take care of the dash and body cams, so they had no qualms in being a little smug. They walked back to the older meta. "So we have about three minutes. Your dog ready yet?"

© seadra of gs