Cowman

Lyle shrugged, walking over to the bench after Ivory stopped him from attacking. They had at least three supers in the fight and super powers were almost always more effective than normal lead.

"Anyways," he thought, grimacing as he lowered himself painfully to the seat, "I need to sit down."

Lyle nodded, following after Ivory. He had noticed the way Ivory held his rifle loosely, seeming to almost forget it was there sometimes. This was another sign to Lyle to keep a close eye on the man. Someone who was that dismissive with their weapon obviously had some other tricks up his sleeve, probably more deadly than the gun itself.

Much different from the way Lyle held his rifle. The stereotypical military way. Always slightly downturned, ready to bring it up at a moments notice. Finger always hovering near the trigger. It was a habit with a lot of soldiers. Out in the field your gun was pretty much the only thing keeping you alive. Even teammates were secondary to your weapon, and you quickly learned to keep that weapon at the ready.

Ivory opened another hole in the air and stepped through. Lyle followed, sighing. The dust from the last trip was almost gone and now he would have to get rid of another layer.

Lyle turned as the flaming troll grabbed Ivory and threw him to the ground. Lyle painfully pulled himself up, trying to twist around towards the troll. The troll raised its arms over its head, preparing to smash the hero in front of him. Ivory shoved the barrel of his gun into the floor in front of him and fired.

The force of the recoil sent him sliding between the trolls legs. Finally managing to stand, Lyle took aim at the monster as Ivory dropped another slug into the chamber. Both rounds caught the troll in the chest, lifting the flaming monster and sending him crashing over the railing to the floor below.

"Well," Lyle said, wiping blood from his face, "that seems a good enough cue as any for us to leave on."

"Dam," Lyle swore silently as they almost ran right into the trolls. He caught a glimpse of Ivory pulling something from his pocket, preparing to engage the troll nearest him.

Lyle quickly brought up his rifle, trying to get it between him and the monster. The troll, however, proved faster. It grabbed the barrel of the gun before it could point at him, the burst of bullets splintering the floor at his feet.

The monster's massive hand flew up, grabbing Lyle by his throat and lifting him off the floor. The troll grinned, suddenly heaving Lyle around and sending him crashing into the far wall. Lyle pushed himself off the floor, turning to try and see where the troll was, only to find himself staring at an oncoming boot.

The troll's foot connected with Lyle's head, sending him into another wall. Lyle sat up painfully. His gun lay a couple feet away, but the troll was already between him and it. The green monster grabbed him by his neck again, lifting up off the floor.

Just then a sudden noise from where Ivory and the other troll had been, drew the creatures attention. Taking advantage of the distraction, Lyle reached behind him, pulling out a small metal cannister. A grenade like device that, when exploding, released a mess of caltrops.

Hearing the small click of the device being activated, the troll turned back towards Lyle just as the old man hit the monster in the face with a taser. The troll yelled, more in surprise than pain. Lyle released the pin on the caltrop grenade, shoving it into the monster's open mouth as the thing dropped him in surprise.

As Lyle fell heavily to the floor, a muffled thud was followed by the troll falling to the ground, painful noises emitting from it's bloody mouth. Lyle quickly grabbed his rifle, keeping the sights trained on the troll. The troll was too tough to die from a load of spikes in the mouth, but Lyle bet that it still hurt like a mother.

"Hurry up, kid." Lyle mumbled, watching for any sign that the group below might have detected the invisible Ivory. As Lyle watched, however, the meeting seemed to go downhill suddenly.

The troll began yelling at the Tsoo about welching on some deal. The Tsoo in charge kept his voice even, but his companions' hands went to their weapons. The troll growled, suddenly shouting over his shoulder.

Trolls began emerging from hiding places around the lobby. The Tsoo gripped their weapons tighter as the green thugs advanced on them.

Entrance:
"Boy from the City" - Slo-mo

Fighting:
"Smack My B___ Up" - Prodigy
"Fell In Love With a Girl" - White Stripes
"Hey Man, Nice Shot" - Filter

There's more, but I won't list 'em all. Too long.

Lyle knelt down, resting his rifle on the railing. Switching to the sniper setting Lyle watched the group carefully through the scope for any sign of activity.

He couldn't see where Ivory was so he would have to watch for any signs of alarm from the group. Keeping in mind Ivory's desire to incapacitate instead of kill he picked out vulnerable spots on each person. The Tsoo he could bring down with couple rounds through the legs or shoulders, but the troll looked a little more sturdy.

"Incapacitate or not," Lyle muttered, "I might have to put one through his head to stop him."

The Tsoo directed them towards a hallway, indicating the door on the left. A quick rifle butt to the head made sure the man wouldn't cause any trouble for the next hour or so.

Stepping cautiously through the door, Ivory and Lyle found themselves standing on a balcony over-looking a large room with several potted trees. Below them stood a gathering of Tsoo.

Lyle hadn't had much experience with the ninja-like group, but recognized their outfits from news programs and papers. One of the group, however, did not look like a Tsoo at all. Raising his rifle, Lyle used the scope to take a closer look at the group.

"Any idea who THAT one is?" Lyle asked quietly, nodding in the direction of the one who looked out of place.

Incapacitate.
Lyle hated that word. He was trained to kill the enemy because the enemy was trying to kill you, he was not trained to humanely shoot people in non-vital areas.

Dropping a slug into the chamber, Lyle took aim at the Tsoo's legs. The heavy round nearly tore off the foot of the villian and he fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Stepping a little closer, Lyle put two quick bursts of automatic fire into each arm.

There. The Tsoo was bleeding quite a bit and twitching a little uncontrollably, but he was still alive. It wasn't a professional job, but then Lyle wasn't a professional. He was a soldier.

The gathered Tsoo heard their trap go off. Two of them were sent to make sure no one had escaped the blast. They walked easily down the hallway, confident that the intruder was nothing but ashes at the bottom of the elevator shaft by now.

They neared the room which held the elevator doors, entering side by side. Suddenly, one was grabbed and pulled to the side. Turning towards the attacker, the other Tsoo did not see the arms that reached out behind him, grabbing him as well.

Two faint snapping sounds came from the corners where the Tsoo had been pulled, followed by the Tsoo themselves falling to the floor, their necks at odd angles. Ivory and Lyle stepped out from opposite sides of the door. Hoisting their rifles they began walking down the hallway.

As the elevator rose, there came a muffled boom from below, followed by a faint roaring that quickly increased in volume.
"A booby trap," Ivory stated calmly, reaching up and opening the hatch in the top of the elevator.

Lyle and Ivory jumped up to the top of the car.
"There," Ivory pointed at an approaching door, "that's the twelth floor." A few heavy rounds from their guns were enough to blast the door open.

The explosion below them finally caught up with the elevator and the car jumped and scraped against the shaft, spraying sparks, as the fiery explosion hit its bottom.

Ivory and Lyle stumbled slightly, but managed to jump for the open door to floor twelve. They flew out of the elevator shaft, quickly rolling to the side as fire and debris exploded out from the door.

Once it had subsided they got up, looking into the scorched elevator shaft just in time to see the ruined car plunge past them, falling back towards the ground floor.

The robed Astral burst from the wall as Ivory's gizmo targeted it. Lyle brought up his rifle. One thing he had learned over the years was that whether mutant, human, or magical creature, if it had a head that was usually were the important stuff was.

The bullet shot from Lyle's rifle with a crack. The sniper round was built to be fired from great distances, and at this range as it hit the Astral in the face, it took most of the back of its head with it.

Something splattered across the wall behind it as it convulsed a couple times and finally fell to the floor. Lyle walked over to where it lay, putting two more slugs in its head. Just to make sure.

"Dam stuff gets everywhere," Lyle cursed silently, looking at the white powder that stuck to him as they walked through the otherly world. Ivory suddenly stopped, directing Lyle's attention to the robed figure in front of them. The black and white reality around them seemed to shatter, leaving the two back in the real world.

The figure charged them as Ivory raised his rifle and took aim. The slug caught the Astral in the chest, tearing a hole in it. The thing howled in pain, but stayed on its feet.

"Well, at least I know bullets can hurt it," Lyle threw the automatic switch on his rifle and opened fire on the Astral as Ivory continued his assault. Pieces of its robe were torn off in tatters as it was forced back. It suddenly reared back, some form of energy shooting out of its hands.

The blast washed across Ivory, scorching the ground as Lyle dove to the side. Lyle thought he saw a hint of blue flash across Ivory's suit as the man shrugged off the attack. Hearing the tell-tale thunk of a slug round from Ivory's weapon, Lyle switched his rifle to shotgun ammo, hoping the combined heavy rounds might tear something vital off the creature.

Lyle jumped away from another blast. Landing on his side, he took aim at the thing and fired. The Astral took the slug near its shoulder and the buckshot in its legs. Howling again, it dove backwards into a nearby wall.

Lyle slowly rose to his feet, looking around the room carefully. Had they killed it or had it just retreated? Lyle's eyes roamed the walls, expecting it to jump out of one of them at any moment.

"Funny," Lyle growled, "I've seen others rip off faces without having to have fancy crap comin' out their pie holes." Spitting on the wood floor he turned to where Ivory had left.

Lyle ran a hand through his hair, sighing. More altenate dimensions, he thought looking at the hole floating in the air. Still, at least this was something to do instead of just hanging around jawin' at each other. Getting up, he grabbed his M-20 and walked toward the glowing portal.

"Hey, slick," he called to Sly Fox. "Toss me a brewski, will ya." The teleporter threw a can to Lyle. Popping the top, the old man took a deep swig before wiping his mouth and following Ivory into the hole.

"Yeah," Lyle said, taking a drag on his cigar, "When you drink, does it dribble out your lip?" It earned him a deathly look from the newcomer.

"Doesn't anyone in this town look normal," Lyle thought to himself, chuckling softly. Another mutant, demon, whatever to deal with. Another mysterious punk with unknown motives and problems he'd have to watch out for.

"Oh no," Rebecca Morningstar suddenly gasped as she read the letter. "They're going to kill everyone. We don't have much time!"

Lyle was really starting to hate this town.

"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.

"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.

I, too, had to resort to period use to get the name I needed.

"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.

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"

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.

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."

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.'

"'Bout dam time," Lyle mumbled, "Thought that was what we were SUPPOSED to be doing." A minute ago he had been expecting a full on assault from Ivory, but now she seemed to go back to her original self, which, while not being that pleasant, was still better than a psychotic killer.

Lyle slung his rifle on his shoulder and turned to follow. He felt out of place here, but then he felt out of place in Paragon City too. So many supers running around, he wasn't even sure he should bother anymore. After all, how much good is an old man with a fancy rifle when you can get a 400 pound mass of muscle who can vaporize buildings with his mind?

Self pity was never Thomas Lyle's style though. Shoving the thought to the back of his mind he focused on his current situation. Maybe once they were out of this funhouse he could get some answers as to what was going on.

Ivory grabbed Lyle's hand, walking up the wall into a door. They emerged in a junction with the group. "Dam," Lyle swore, dropping softly to the ground, "I hate this kinda s#!t."

More threats were exchanged and Lyle cast a wary look towards were Contact was standing. He never liked telepaths, they got into people's heads too easy, sometimes not even on purpose. People, by their very nature, didn't like others knowing everything about them. Made them feel vulnerable.

Lyle was pulled out of his thoughts when Ivory suddenly seemed to switch demeanors entirely. He had seen that look many times. Some mercenary or guerilla rebel who had taken someone down, but not killed them yet. That look of savage joy and excitement, the feeling of having someone completely in their power. Lyle had gotten that look himself several times and now he saw it mirrored in Ivory's face.

"Just great," he thought, "why do I always end up with a malicious, nigh-omnipotent maniac." Lyle slowly pulled a control on his rifle, dropping one of the heavy "slug" cartridges into the chamber. His gut twisted slightly as he watched the woman carefully, feeling a certainty that this one would be the last.

"That old familiar feeling," he whispered.