The Sly Fox was teleporting along the streets of King's Row, heading toward his friend Contact's office... being March 5th, it was his birthday, and he hoped to look up the CEO of one of his favorite organizations to perhaps get a cup of coffee and throw the dangerously hot aforementioned "lawsuit waiting to happen" in a Hellion's face...
Sly often wondered why he enjoyed the kinetic psychic's company. After all, police organizations and The Sly Fox did not have a... friendly past. However, there was something about the entrepreneur that Fox had taken to right from the beginning...If only I had seen his blasted commercial before I joined the Legion of Virtue he mused... I might now be able to land chicks who had a thing for "boys in blue..." The Sly Fox chuckled to himself. Yep, he still cracked himself up! ...even if often he was the only one laughing...
As Sly materialized above the doorway, he noticed a bit of commotion outside the entrance to First Strike Security below him... it seems someone was making it very clear they wanted to see Contact himself... right NOW, in fact...
Oh wonderful! Sly thought with glee... This oughta be GOOD! Breakfast AND a show!!
Folding his arms, the red rascal hovered above the impending scene of conflict, eager to see what would unfold and how his friend would handle the situation...
(OOC hopefully this will pick up soon <COUGHS at Red Starr> 
)
The gaurds didn't know what hit them. Red starr clapped his hands together, and propelled air with such force thats it knocked the security guards to the ground.
"Out of my way!" He said as he briefly, before striding through the double frosted doors and into the building. He was gone before the guards got back up.
Red Starr proceded down the front lobby area, towards the secretary seated behind the front desk. He quickly glanced over the scene of this clean, professional office building. What insidious curroption it contained. His lips curled in disgust under his faceless, finned black helmet. Several heroes, obviously here to see if they could join this monstrosity, were dispersed through the lobby. Some backed away form the towering Russian-American, others seemed to ready for a fight. It was a common sight for him.
the "How may I help you?," of the secretary, as she put down the phone on the desk, Broguth Red Starr back to what he was here to do.
"Where may I find contact?," He said in a quick, but curteous manner.
"You can find him, right here," Contact called out as he stepped into the lobby from his office.
He was out of uniform, wearing a tan suit with a matching silk tie and an expensive black dress shirt. His sunglasses were gone, replaced by lightly smoked gold rimmed glasses, his blond hair remained the same though, pushed back away from his face and neatly combed. He looked more like a stockbroker or a lawyer then a hero.
"What's the meaning of this," he strode across the marble floor and stood face to face with the armored man, confident and not the least bit intimidated. "You barge into MY office, assault MY guards and then DEMAND to see me," he exclimated the last point by jabbing his finger into the middle of the Red and Black clad man's chest.
"Now, start talking before I pull it out of your brain," Contact glared up at the man, crossing his arms.
Uh oh... Sly thought when he saw what the helmeted hero was up to... Contact seems to have upset yet another boy scout... oh dear, well, best see what the commotion is about...
Sly raised his arms and teleported down to the thrown guards, just as they were picking themselves up again.
"Hi there, Roger, Steve" the quick-witted Sly said, unknowingly checking their nametags. "I have an appointment with Contact so I'll just head right in, shall I? Give my love to your wife and the kids, Steve!"
"Oh... umm... thanks" Steve of the Steadfast Security guards answered shakily.
After The Sly Fox had walked past them, Roger turned to his partner and said "He knew you? Who was that dude, Steve?"
Steve, with quite the perplexed look on his face, looked back at his friend and said "I have no idea..."
Contact felt Sly coming before he walked through the door. Although he did a fair enough job pretending to be incompetant and silly, having him close at hand would make things much easier for Contact if a fight did break out.
He continued to stand his ground, glaring up at the man in red and black armor.
"I have no fear for your petty psychics, I speak only truth!," replyed in a subdued but venomus tone.
"I came here to tell you contact, what I think of you. Do not waste our time by reading my mind. Your Group of superheroes is an atroscity. It is good that you garb yourself in the clothes of what you are: a greedy capitalist, not a hero. What you ask money for should always be freely given. Heroes are people who help those that cannot help them selves, cannot afford to either!"
"Contact has never been one to turn down Pro-Bono work, sir... and how did you get that armor? Was it a gift? Did you craft it yourself in Siberia? Well, regardless HOW you got it, he pays for his employee's technology and outfits. Without him, there would be a whole lot more people out there who could make a difference on these streets stuck at home because they didn't have the right amount of funds to get their dreams off the ground..."
Sly knew Contact had the situation well in hand, but he couldn't resist! He LOVED going toe to toe with the boy scouts... so he continued from his position in the doorway,
"... I can't tell you how faster I've been able to hone my skills because of the freelance work this agency brings my way. Better magics allow me to get the real evil that's out there faster. Which saves more lives. Sure, he asks for payment... but not more than anyone can afford.
Sometimes Communists forget I guess, that while that type of government is "ideal" in that everyone is equal no matter what... and most services are meant to be "free," people are corrupt, and communism would only ever work in a 'perfect' society... something the world, comrade (let ALONE Paragon) is definitely not..."
Sly winked over the armored hero's shoulder at Contact, doffed his cap and said, "But I digress... And I really do LOVE your choice of red! My compliments!"
"You think I go from contract to contract and ignore what I see on the way," Contact questioned the man, still looking up at him, "If so you're sorely mistaken."
"You don't understand how we work. It's true that we take contracts, both standing security contracts and pay-per-job contracts, but that doesn't mean we ignore the rest of the world. The only difference between a paying customer and a non-paying victim is that the paying customer has a way to get ahold of us if they get into trouble and a promise of quick response time."
Contact nodded towards Sly, "What he said is spot on, much of the profit gets reinvested into the company," Contact smoothed down the front of his suit, "Not ALL of it, but most of it. I pay my operatives and myself well, what they do with there cut is none of my buisness, as long as it isn't illegal," he glanced again at Sly for a second.
"In anycase," Contact sighed, "Just because you can turn a profit doing something doesn't make it evil. I'm well paid, my operatives are well paid, and those we protect are happy. The city is FULL of heroes that do nothing but patrol the streets... they can't be everywhere though and every day people are killed and injured because no one is there to save them, or because of heroes that dont have the right equipment or training."
"Will they call the police? The cops are more often just victims as well. Are they just suppose to hope a hero happens to be coming by when they get into trouble?" Contact shrugged
"And what happens when you save some poor old lady from a mean ol' Skull mugger and accidentally knock her down during the fight? Can you weather the lawsuit? With us they have to sue the company, not the individual."
"So we charge a fee for a signaling device and promise a speedy response time. We're happy to be paid and they are happy to pay us, who are you to judge that? It honestly," Contact recrossed his arms and looked up at the man, challenging him to disagree, "Is none of your buisness."
Ivory's legs should have been tired with all the walking he had been doing lately. The parts he had gotten from Cyred were expensive to impliment into his own technology and Cynergetic wasn't about to float the bill. It had brought Ivory to doing some freelance work.
He stopped in front of the doors to First Strike Security and took out his ID card. Having always had it prompty scanned, he didn't even think as he swiftly placed it back into his wallet and stepped past the fallen gaurds.
He strolled in casual fashion past the three heroes, Sly, Red and Contact, who seemed to be having a conflict and led himself straight to the receptionist.
"HellohowmayIhelpyou?" she said with an oblivious smile and false cheer in her voice.
"I got these contracts earlier this afternoon." Ivory said as he placed near twenty blue three ring binders on the desk, all bore the First Strike logo. "So I'd like to get paid." he said cheerily, completely oblivious to the others who had stopped to stare at him and his little spectacle.
The receptonist took the binders and a check printed from her printer, a number of zeroes graced the end and both the receptionist and Ivory continued to smile, almost in a brainless fashion at eachother. The check exchanged hands and went promptly into Ivory's jacket.
"A pleasure doing business with you old chap!" he said as he patted Contact on the sholder as he passed.
Ivory stopped and stared for a moment, the look of seriousness crossed his face and seemed to send the previous comedy to the foreground. He was looking intently at the man clad in red and black.
His face broke and a grin came accross, in a sarcastic tone, "Nice suit, kiddo!" and Ivory walked out of the door.
It is my "buisness" as you put it. It is everyones. You set a dangerous precident Mr. Contact. I am not a fool. I am not a blind communist. I understand the importance of capitalism, and the role it plays on the way to a better society. It is needed for this world right now. But, we are different. We, like this city are meant to be Paragons of a better world. This is too be a city of the future, and we an ideal of what a person can be. Everytime you take money for what otherwise is a noble cause, you tarnish your self, and bring yourself down. You become less of a hero, and more like what you fight, using your power for gain. I will not fight you now. I will watch you," Red starr commented as he looked over his shoulder towards the mishmosh of company men "and your salary superheros. If you fall from the side of right, know that Red Starr, if not the Soviet Union of superheroes, will be waiting."
Red Starr relaxed. He had said what he had come to say. And he knew the truth of his words. He waited for a response, simply as nicity.
He knowingly remarked , " You do not help your case for noblity, with the company you keep either" as he nodded at the Sly Fox
OOC: sorry bout the slow response, it took a bit to think of a good reply, and i was moving over the weekend!
Sly merely grinned.
"I like the company I keep just fine. In fact, I'd go so far as to say because of it my image of "nobility" has gone up a few notches! But thanks for the concern, Red Starr, I'm touched!"
Sly chuckled as he tipped his hat.
"I'm willing to accept any type of concern, even if it's from a 'Boy Scout.' Why, if it wasn't for you guys, we'd have more competition!
Just remember, comrade, we are on the same side," Sly concluded to the armored hero as he nodded to Contact.
Helsing found himself chuckling as he walked torwards the FFS building with 3 resumes in his hands. He knew Contact pretty much hated him, but this was the only place that he knew he could apply for a job. He walked to the front door, still chuckling, but he stopped. "I am here to talk with Mr. Contact about a job," he said to the guard. "Contact told us about you Mr. Helsing and you are not allowed in unless Contact says otherwise," he said quite nervously. "Come on, I need to see him, me and my friends need jobs. Hell we'll even be the janitor if it pays," he begged the guard. Let me give him a call I'll and see what I can do," the other guard said. "Thanks man." The guard hit the call button....
OOC no worries about response time 
"Watch away then, Red," Contact remained unmoved. "You won't be the first set of eyes on us, and I doubt you'll be the last."
"I am only concerned about my image in-so-far as it generates more buisness... I know what I do and how I do it is the best way to serve the people that contract us," he narrowed his eyes behind his smoked lenses, "And I do more pro bono work then most for-free "heroes.""
"As for your Communists and your not-so veiled threat, you're no better then anyone else, and have no right to judge me or my employees. You think just because you've a political agenda and a fancy matching ensamble you can pass judgement on my buisness?" Contact shook his head. "Well, you're welcome to it I suppose, I know what we're doing is right, and that's all that matters to me. Contracts pay for better equipment for the operatives, better equiped operatives means more efficent fullfilment of contracts, and more efficency means less crime. You show me how you can get my numbers in such a wide area for free... and I'll toss First Strike out the window."
"Furthermore, I'm WELL aware of the company I keep, but it doesn't surprise me that you're view is obscured from atop that pedistle you put yourself on. If you knew half of what Sly," Contact was interupted by a buzz.
"There's a Kyle Helsing outside to see you, sir," one of the guards outside said into his com. "He has an application for you."
Contact was stunned for a moment, glancing at Sly, he quickly recovered. "Uh... yeah. Take the application," as an afterthought, "And shoot him if he tries to come in here."
Sly might have added his two cents again, or he may have said something about Kyle. However, after hearing the last remark of "Shoot him if he tries to come in..." Sly was unable to comment further, as he was doubled-over wheezing with laughter.
The snatched the applications out of hands. "Sir we will look over your applications, but if you enter the building, we are told to kill you," the guard said. "Well thats interesting," Helsing said as looked over the guards shoulder at the exchange inside. Great, he still wants me as far away as possible from this building, yet he has a Commie on his property. Maybe Marx was right, he thought. "Well he never said anything about staying outside did he?" Helsing said. He took a fold up chair out of nowhere and sat down, looking in the windows. He took out a small flask of whiskey, took a sip, and raised torwards Contact in window. "Have fun, cause I know I will!" he shouted to him, doubting Contact could hear him through the window, "Tons of fun...."
"You're certainly welcome to sit on public property, sir" the guard took the application and carefully set it off to the side, his voice reverberating from behind his breather.
"At least until the authorities arrive," the guard picked his rifle back up, pulling back the bolt and chambering a round before shouldering the weapon, "Loitering is against the law after all, sir."
There was a sudden burst of gold and red light and a loud crash followed by a breeze that carried street litter and trash with it. Helsing was tossed from his chair several feet across the sidewalk, the chair a mangled mess.
"OOOOOOOOoow! Who the hell put that there?" came the famous voice of Galactic Jack, laying flat on the sidewalk face up, a long, burned skid mark starting at Kyle and ending at each of Jack's feet made it clear what had happened. "Sorry bout that eh chums? No harm done." The lawn chair didn't agree.
Jack lept to his feet in a fluid movement and gave a salute to Kyle and the gaurds before disappearing into the distance, a light trail of smoke close behind and a breeze in tow. Under Kyle's hand was a newspaper clipping:
"Hero's Wanted! Good pay, choose your own hours! Retrieval work in Kings Row: LOW RISK! Repeat contracts = BENEFITS!! Work with a team! 1 800 555 3862 ask for Karen! Limited Availability!"
"I see I'm not wanted, so I'll go elsewhere. I'll see you guys later," Helsing said as he waved to the guards. He picked up the chair and put the flask back in his jacket. He walked away and turned the corner.
Then, he leaped high in to the and landed on the scyscraper a window. He began to scale the building and reached the roof. He then leaped onto the roof of the FFS building, and the guards were none the wiser. He put he chair back down and resumed his former state. He then pulled a set of headphones out of his pocket and plugged it into his watch.
Wonder how long it will take Contact to pick up on this? he thought.
A small microfone no larger than a flea started recording the conversation from the lobby of the building.
A tall blue haired female walks into the whole thing.
"Hey Miss! You can't just wa..."
"Point that thing somewhere else, will you?" The woman points at the gun, with the barrel now filled with ice. "Can't you see I'm here seeking a job? Or couldn't they afford a guard with a brain?" The woman sits down in a chair near the desk. "I can see you have your hands full. I'll just wait till the boys are off the testeron trip"
((Hope you didn't mind the intrusion 
Helsing got up and took off the headphones. He took out his PDA and looked at his new E-mail from Contact. "We reget to inform you you are not what we are looking for," it said. That's it, if he doesn't want me to work fer him, then how bout I bring back the 616th Hunters,. He took out his cell phone and made a call to the Paragon City Supergroup Department. "I would like to make a new Supergroup," he said....
Red Starr ignored the commotion outside,
"As Mr. Fox pointed out, we are on the same side....for now.
It was merely a warning not a threat. And as you stated, I am no better than anybody else. However that makes me the perfect judge of what you do. But I digress. I simply came here to tell what was on my mind, not to take up this much time. I must go. Surely there is some wrong about for me to right. Contact, &#1087;&#1088;&#1086;&#1097;&# 1072;&#1085;&#1080;&#1077;. &#1087;&#1088;&#1086;&#1097;&# 1072;&#1085;&#1080;&#1077;, &#1076;&#1086;&#1089;&#1072;&# 1076;&#1085;&#1086; Fox."
With that said Red Starr proceeded to make his way to the exit.
Contact watches the russian leave, sighs and shakes his head. Scanning the room he notices the blue haired female and the guard clearing his iced rifle.
"Perhaps it's not a sound job seeking strategy to hassle a prospective employer's operatives," he looks at the woman and raises a blond eyebrow over the gold rims of his glasses. "I'm Contact, what can I do for you," he asks, extending his hand.
OCC: our little post seems to be getting popular, eh contact?...
and aas a note all that gibberish was russian.
Red Starr turned off his television in disgust. He thought the heros of Paragon were pure of taint, but it seemed he was wrong. He slammed his fist into a nearby counter. These ridiculous capitalists must be stopped! Charging for what should be freely given?! It is a mockery of everything he and the Spetsnaz stood for. He Adjusted his red and black uniform, and placed his full helmet on. He climbed out the window and started to make his way to 'First Strike Security' head quarters. He was going to give this monster a piece of his mind!
~~
Wensday March 5th, King's Row office of First Strike Security, Contact's office
Contact sat behind his desk going over applications for new operatives. Since opening the operative program he had recived a storm potential recruites. He handled most of the interviewing himself; being a mind reader kept his new hires honest. He had already turned several "bad cops" away and felt confident about the handful he had hired. Even now several were taking lucrative city patrol contracts in the "tamer" areas until they got some experiance. Public response had thus far been positive.
He mulled over Sullen's report leaning back in his chair, lost mometarily in thought.
His musing was interupted by the speakerphone on his desk.
"Sir, we have a problem down here."
~~~
Wensday March 5th, King's Row Office of First Strike Security, street level
The building looked like many others in King's Row, a squat four story brownstone with few windows and a single door, front and back. Large metalic blue letters were attached to the front of the building over the door;
First Strike Security, Inc
Coporate protection at private sector prices
Standing in front of the frosted glass doors were two men in uniforms and masks. The uniforms were pale blue and white, signiture colors of First Strike. Their faces were covered by a mask and breather, and their eyes were behind shaded goggles. The flack jackets they wore were similar in style to Contact's, except they bore no corporate sponsorships, only the First Strike Security patch. A large multi-mode rifle was slung over each of their shoulder.
Seeing the approaching Red Starr, one of the guards steps forward and holds out a hand, indicating he should stop.
"Present your ID card and state your buisness, please," his tone is official, yet not rude.