"You know what, I think u and me are get along just fine," Helsing said, extending a hand to Lyle. They shook hands and he spoke up again, pulling a Zippo out of his pocket, "Just tell me if u need a light." He flicked the lighter open and snapped his fingers close to it, igniting the thing. "I'll keep it in mind," Lyle said as they began to walk.
Lobe had been staring at Lyle for some time now and after Helsing shook the old man's hand he walke up to him. "Excuse me?" Lobe said, tapping Lyle on the unoccupied shoulder. When Lyle acknowledged him he continued, "Please don't swear. I not like swearing, yup."
Lyle looked the giant up and down.
"I'll give it a try, kid. But I've been cussin' since before you were an itch in your daddy's sack, so I might slip up now and then."
A smile of thanks spreads across Lobe's face then turns into a baffled stare as he scratches his head. "Bags don't itch silly. At least not the ones I've carried." He then turns to Sly Fox and queries, "Do bags itch?"
Sly grins at Lobe.
"Depends, my friend, on uhhh... if the bag in question... is made of BURLAP. That's what he meant."
He opened the door Ivory pointed out to him and bowed, sweeping his arm like a butler. "After you Milady Deth, Lobe, Contact, Ly-- ah hell let's get OUT of here!"
Lyle made a mental note to try and tone down his language a little. He usually just ignored anyone who asked him not to swear or smoke, but Lobe was one of the strongest things he'd ever seen, AND was as dumb as a bag of hammers. It didn't pay to get someone like that mad at you.
He seriously doubted that anything in his gun would stop the kid. Lyle had been trying harder than usual to cooperate with the others simply because he was out of his league. A fight on the spur of the moment in this location would end in his quick demise. Too many different power types.
Telepaths were a pain to beat. Most could shut down your mind from down the street. Many were powerful enough to sense you from over a block away, which made sniping worthless too. Pre-laid traps were the best method, but you had to know were they'd be.
Teleporters and mystics were mostly long-distance jobs. Sniping from a roof was the ideal position. Tanks like Lobe were a lot trickyer. Lyle recalled a tanker like Lobe called Ivan Rossark. He had been a KGB agent who had turned terrorist. He wasn't nearly as strong as Lobe, but he was bullet proof and nigh-invulnerable. Lyle had been pretty messed up after that fight. He had won by finally shoving two web grenades down the monster's throat as he tried to crush Lyle in a bear hug. The webs exploded, cutting off his air passages and suffocating him.
Not that this group had given him any reason to fear a fight, but Lyle was always wary about others.
The heroes filed out one by one, each disappearing unimpressively behind the door. Ivory would stay behind after the others had left to shut the door, a prisoner still.
On the other side, the heroes appeared into the modest antique shop of Rebecca Morning star as though they had stepped through the front door. On the counter was the Ivory vessal in the shape of an angel. Morningstar and Ivory, who looked as he always did in this "real" world, were sitting on stools on either end of the counter, conversing over coffee. Rebecca held the thin, red jewel that Ivory had revealed when he first met the heroes to the light, staring through it like it had a secret message written in lemon ink.
"Took you all long enough. I hope i didn't give you any trouble in there." Ivory spoke, calm and cool. "She doesn't knwo what that thing is, but she claims she's found similar things brought in by outcasts."
Rebecca looked to the heroes and set the stone on the countertop.
"Outcasts who said they got them from Tsoo."
"Look, ahem... Rebecca. Why did your father die giving me that one idol in the first place? Was he EVEN your father? You seemed to get over the news pretty quick... PLUS, If all it does is open some kind of frickin' portal to a crazed prison with some psychotic kid demon, what was the point?
Oh... yeah... and it did make that wall disappear... oh, and it obviously USED to house Gideon, but not anymore... and... wait, let me start over...
Just WHAT are we supposed to do with it? Why did he-- hey... who has it?"
Sly looked around. He knew he should have been more careful with that thing... Did Rebecca still have it? He was at a loss, and his head was all jumbled, he pulled up a chair to rest for a second.
Haunt sat on the edge of a small building, looking out into Steel Canyon. His red eyes scanned the area, and frowned beneath his mask as he watched the sun hang in the sky.
None of his contacts had any work for him, and he preferred to wait until nightfall to bust criminals on the street. He glanced at the shadow surrounding him; in its common form it obscured most of Haunt's body, with a serpentine head perched on his spiked shoulder. "So, what do you want to do?" he asked the translucent, semi-sentient being surrounding him. He knew there was a problem when he was talking to the creature that could not only read his thoughts, but was practically a part of his body. The shadow apparently understood this too, and the silent, snakelike head seemed to visibly sigh.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," he said consolingly to the shadow, that he'd taken to calling
'Eidolon' not long after it had appeared, surging out of and then continually swirling around his body all those years ago, "we could really use some work, huh."
Suddenly, Eidolon's intangible form seemed to shiver around Haunt's body. While the creature first began doing this when Ian learned to phase between this plane and the netherworld, granting him the ability of 'instantaneous' travel, it had now taken to doing it whenever it sensed a shift in dimensions.
"What's up?" Haunt asked it quietly, glancing first to its snakelike head, and then around, attempting to find the source of the shift himself. Eidolon glanced downwards, towards the building they were seated on.
"Care to check it out?" he thought, as the idea reverberated within their shared consciences. Eidolon agreed in a way that very few psychics would be able to notice, before its incorporeal body partially slipped through the roof and inside the building.
Their shared perception became present in the room, cloaked in the shadows of an old, forgotten corner of the shop as they listened intently, trying to see why such a large group had shifted dimensions directly below them.
He heard a man talking, and managed to catch the tail-end of his statement.
"...they got them from Tsoo." Ian's face contorted into a snarl at the mention of the people who had killed both his parents and master. If these apparent heroes were looking to fight the Tsoo, he would gladly join them.
He was pulled away from his thoughts as another man spoke up, seemingly trying to explain how they had gotten into the shop and what they were planning on doing next. Haunt heard mention of someone called Rebecca, an idol of some sort, and something called a Gideon. Although he had become as confused as the man sounded, his mind was still focused on the mention of the Tsoo.
Haunt had decided. It was time to head in there and introduce himself, see what was going on, and if he could perhaps help. Eidolon seeped back up through the ceiling, and before long the shadowy being of negative energy had helped him carve a small portal into the netherworld.
He emerged moments later from the shadowy dimension, appearing somewhat to the side of the group of heroes. Eidolon shivered as they appeared through the portal.
"Sorry to just drop in like this, but I, well, heard someone make mention of the Tsoo. If you're, by any chance, going after them, then I'd like to offer my services. I'm known as Haunt, and this," he added, gesturing to the symbiotic shadow on his shoulder, "is my, err, partner, Eidolon."
((sorry for the long post, got a little caught up in the introduction 
))
Contact was pleased to be back in the real world.
Immediatly upon stepping through the door he pulled out his cell phone and made a call to his agent. He wasn't sure how long he'd been gone and needed to rearrange his schedual now.
Listening to Barry ramble on about personal apperances and sponsorships always made him zone out... A sharp tug at his perceptions brought him back and his head snapped to the side as he stared into the shadows.
"Someone's," Contact said just as the new arrival appeared from the shadows, "coming."
Deth looked at the stranger that walked through the door. She sensed a kindred essence about him and, looked over her glasses at the essence called 'Eidolon.' Her smoky blue/violet eyes surveyed the nether creature and realized she knew of the spirit.
'Interesting name for her. Eidolon. I am afraid that the meaning of the name has been corrupted by the foul creatures that have taken the name upon themselves and attempt to corrupt this world.'
She moves to a corner, still keeping everything in view, and leans back and assumes a lounging position, floating about three feet off the ground above what seems to be a blue/violet smoke. She pushes the hat down over her eyes. She starts a conversation with the entities in her head.
Haunt looked towards the woman, following her gaze as she seemed to study Eidolon, before finally speaking.
'Interesting name for her. Eidolon. I am afraid that the meaning of the name has been corrupted by the foul creatures that have taken the name upon themselves and attempt to corrupt this world.'
Haunt was a bit slow to respond, as he realized who she was talking about by "her". His hand, tightly wrapped in gray cloth, clasped around the back of his pale, purple cranium as he smiled sheepishly beneath his mask.
"Indeed.. It was a bit shocking to find those wretched things went by the same name as my companion here." He paused and glanced at Eidolon for a moment, one eyebrow raised, before continuing, "I've never thought of Eidolon as a 'her' though, and I must admit, the thought of having shared my mind with the opposite gender for all these years is somewhat..unsettling.." He completed, giving Eidolon another quizzical look. 'She' seemed as confused by the idea as he was.
As the woman walks off towards the corner, he turns and faces the group once again, specifically to the man in the jacket covered in company logos. "Hey, you're 'the Contact', or somesuch, right? First Strike Security and all that? I've seen you a few times on TV, nice to meet you," he says, outstretching a hand towards the man.
"However, I haven't had the pleasure of being introduced to the rest of you... Care to enlighten me?" he adds, looking at each hero assembled in the room in turn.
Kyle stood around in the shop looking around at the antiques. He hadn't even noticed the new comer. He turned around to ask a question, but was suprised to the new man. He did catch a few words in his ear ,though, before he had turned around. "Name's Helsing, Kyle Helsing. I am a.. um nevermind about that. I'm kinda just tagging along with them, killing things, and creating trouble," Helsing said. He looked back at the case that held a few antiques. He looked at a case that held some archaic weapons.
He looked at a sword that had some strange markings on it. He looked at it a little closer. "Rebecca, where did get this?" he asked. She walked over and said, "Oh that old thing. We've had that since a little while after we opened this shop. It hasn't sold yet because of those cracks init." "Well, I understand it, I've seen this language over a million times," he said. "How could you possibly know what that means?!" Kate exclaimed. "Simple, my great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather, John Helsing II made this up. Old family secret. What confuses me, though, is how it got here. I'l give you 100 bucks for it. Take it or leave it, plus its mine anyways. I would just take it, but it just wouldn't feel right not paying you for it," Helsing said. "You expect me to believe that? How do I know you just wanna an old sword," she half spoke/half laughed. Helsing sighed and reached in to his pocket, showing a neclace with a strange looking symbol on it. He then pointed to a part of the sword. It had the same symbol inscibed in it. "It's the family crest," he said, and pulled $100, in cash, out of his pocket and offered it. She took the money and handed him the sword. "I think you sold it."
He opened the door and said to the group, "I'll catch you guys later, gotta head to my apartment. I just gotta check a few things out." Rebecca opened the register and deposited the cash, "Finally got rid of that thing," she muttered to herself.
Lyle's remaining eye narrowed at the newcomer as he voiced his eagerness to fight the Tsoo. Lyle had heard that tone many times and had come to hate it.
"Personal vindettas," he thought, "They only end up getting you killed." He watched as Deth and 'Haunt', as he called himself, discussed the cloud of shadow that seemed to drift about the kid. Finishing the conversation, Deth retreated to a corner and hovered there, muttering to herself.
"Magics," Lyle swore under his breath, "Can't seem to just act normal." The old man set his rifle on the floor as he sat down wearily in a chair. Demons, monsters, magicians, and nether world mystics.
"I'm too old for this s#!t"
Contact takes the offered hand and gives it a firm shake.
"That's correct, First Strike Security, at your service," he grins and hands him a buisness card.
Sly heard Lyle's little rant and had to grin. He never understood "magics" either, yet he WAS endowed by magic. He was beginning to like Lyle, inspite of himself. He reminded him of one of Fox's old mentors. A little bit craftier, perhaps, but he had that same "I'm right, you're not, youngster!" air about him...
Good ol' Hound Dog... ever since he had left "the pack" ... before that horrible night of the Rikti invasion... Sly had often wondered what became of him. He heard he went a little senile and was living in some home. Fox always regretted not ever finding out where and visiting him...
But Lyle, on the other hand, seemed like the type to be as shrewd and crotchety as he ever was... until he either passed away at some ungodly old age, or finally fell in battle.
As all this passed through his head, Sly leaned over to Lyle and whispered. "Remember, it's not magic that you should be wary of it's the different types that USE them..."
Giving a slight nod, Sly moved on to shake the newcomers hand.
"The Sly Fox, at your service, Haunt. You will forgive sleeping beauty over there," Sly pointed his thumb at Deth's floating form, "But she has been through quite the recent ordeal. I assume that's why Milady Deth Aszicen perhaps forget to introduce herself...?"
Sly grinned wryly at her, but he didn't hide the warmth in his gaze either.
He then turned to Rebecca. "Now I don't know why Helsing called you Kate, or WHY you went along with it, put I would PLEASE like SOME answers to my questions? DO you still have that damned idol and was that man even your father?
Look, I'm going to fix Deth a drink... and when I'm done I would like some answers. Thank you!
Oh and Lobe it is Orange Juice of course for you... oh yeah and Neko I'm sure you want some milk, and Contact, Ivory, Lyle, Haunt and-- oh for Liberty's sake! When I am done I just want some ANSWERS!"
With that Sly stormed off to the back of the store, hoping to find a door to a kitchen and avoid looking like an a*s because he couldn't make a 'grand exit.'
ooc: oops lol I didn't mean to do that 
"Um, thanks," Haunt said as he scrambled to find a place to store the card in his pocketless outfit; he settled for tucking it into the fabric of his dark gray legwraps. He glanced over to the one called Lyle, for a moment unsure about what he was mumbling about, before realizing the common misconception people had when meeting him.
"Hate to disappoint, but as far as I know, Eidolon here definitely doesn't stem from any magical artifacts or otherworldly demigods. Just a chance recombination of my DNA when I was born, combined with some focus training brought my buddy into this world," he said, nodding at his shadowy companion, who nodded back, it's featureless face seeming to grin.
Haunt proceeded to shake 'the Sly Fox's hand, and thought he was able to match the names to the faces in the room as they were listed one by one. He looked back over to the woman he was talking to minutes earlier, and grinned again as she mumbled to herself; he was beginning to think he was wierd for talking to Eidolon all the time, he was glad to see he wasn't the only person with voices in his head.
Lobe had been bouncing from one hero to the next as the conversation progressed. The mention of orange juice however, broke the intense concentration that was etched on his face as he was trying to absorb what was being said. He wanted to follow Sly into the kitchen to help him find the OJ but he was too big to fit through the doorway. So he settled on exploring the many shiny, fascinating objects laying about the shop instead.
Walking around the room, hunched over to avoid bashing his head against the ceiling, he eventually found himself at the front door. Because he was hunched forward he spotted the letter that had been slid underneath the front door. It had slid partially beneath a display case that was directly to the door's left. After several attempts to pick up the letter with his enormous fingers, Lobe fnally succeeded, and carefully, only bumping into a few items, made his way back to the group and Rebecca Morningstar. "Miss Rebecca? You have mail." He said and handed the letter, now a little crumpled, to her.
"Magics, mutants... it's all the same s#!t, kid." Lyle lit a new cigar, leaning back in his seat. "All too complicated for me. Give me a normal, solid gun anyday." He nudged his rifle with his foot. "Least it won't turn around and bite you in the @$$ just cause the 'ruler of the darkness house' asked it to, or cause it's left genome had a brain fart."
Lyle stopped short, chewing on his cigar when Lobe announced his discovery of a letter. He stayed where he was, but kept an ear on the shop keeper. Hopefully this letter would clear some of this up. But with his luck it would just lead to more problems.
Lobe gazes at the old man with a peculiar look on his face. He then turns back to Rebecca, interupting her opening of the letter, "Ummm, do you have any soap?"
"Fine, kid," Lyle sighed, throwing up his hands, "I'm sorry, OK? Just go get your da.... dang orange juice." He corrected himself. Wierd vises and personalities. Another reason Lyle hated super heroes. But then, Thomas Lyle hated most people.
Lobe looked back at Lyle with a huge smile splitting his face, "Thanks awfully Mr. Lyle. My ma used to say that swearing opened the door for the devil, yup she did. Lobe sure doesn't want to meet him, nope."
"Too late, kid." Lyle thought to himself, "Door was left open a long time ago." His home in Kings Row and its average of a murder a day was proof enough of that. When he had started the whole crime fighting thing, he had intended to just clean up Kings Row and be done with it.
But he had soon learned that the different gangs and organizations were connected to each other and they stretched beyond Kings Row. Then the government had cancelled his retirement, ordering him to join the ranks of the heroes.
All-in-one weapons DID have a limited usage time.
Lyle smiled to himself. Unless you got the right connections. If there was one thing humans were good at, it was making ways to kill each other. 'Technology,' he thought, exhaling smoke from his cigar, 'ain't it grand.'