Two: Blood

"You should see my place," Brydon grumbles, making his way inside and getting as comfortable as he can.

"Clearly you're all not from the same organization, seeing as you hadn't met each other before tonight," Brydon points out, in reference to the trio and Martin, "So how about you guys - what's your play in all this? You some kind of wacky, underground vigilante squad or something?"

He heads casually to the door Martin indicated, curious what he might find within.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it," Xavier mumbles as he looks around in disgust. There are old nudey calendars on the walls that are several years--or decades--out of date. A collection of beer cans covers an entire section of the kitchen counter. And Xavier thinks he feels something slightly squishy under his dress shoes that he doesn't even want to investigate further. At least the TV was made this millennium. "We are like exterminators. Only we exterminate things much more dangerous than bugs."

Brydon casually grabs a piece of pizza from a paper plate sitting on an end table. He looks it over and, seeing nothing visible growing, takes a bit. He shrugs and puts it back down. "Good company then, I suppose. Look. I don't have any experience fighting, or dealing with, any of these things. But I was a cop, a damn good one, until Martin and I, and a lot of our friends, were forced out for tryin' to do the right thing. For better or worse, I'm wrapped up in this now and I've been wantin' to make a difference for a long time. If tagging along with you guys can help me do that, you better believe I'll pull my weight. What do you say?" He wipes his hand on his pants, looks at Xavier, then wipes it again before extending it to the man. "Name's Brydon, by the way."

The second they're in disgust and apprehension shows on Luci's face.

'I am never going to your place' She mentions at Brydons quip as she tries to careful navigate without touching anything, making a beeline to the pointed out door.

'Lancelot and Professor X deal with the extermination, I handle the moral support' She jokes, turning just in time to see Brydons take a bite of pizza and turns physically pale.

'... Okay I'm gonna stop complaining about the mess at our place.' She mutters under her breath before speaking up.

' I for one am not going to complain about an extra guy between me and the gribblies.' While she did 'earn her keep' with searching out information, and other such tasks any extra hand to fight so she didn't have to was fine in her book.

Galaine is wide-eyed as they move deeper into the catacombs Martin’s home. He does not linger on the nudie calendars, he does not eat the week-old pizza, but he does also greet Brydon formally, gripping the man with a firm forearm shake. "Sir Galaine. Of House Grenfell, Son of Lord Blackmoss. Once wielder of the lost blade, Daemonsbane."

Quietly, he adds to Luci, "Please, do not call me that. I have asked and asked — he was a cur, and I am not, my lady."

Xavier doesn't take the man's hand, despite his attempts at cleaning them, but he nods in greeting. "Xavier. I hate cops, but I'll try not to hold that against you. What do you do now?"

"Nice to officially meet you all." Brydon runs a hand through his short, unkempt hair, "I do this-" he gestures around Martin's apartment and at the three of you- "at least I was trying. Trying to put it all together. I drive delivery once in a while and managed to get out of the force on a pension, but usually I'm bustin' up thugs trying to piece together all the corruption in this city. Martin there, and I, go way back - were on the force together until they found reasons to get rid of us. Squeaky wheels, and all that. Then we all started dropping of the planet. Figured the mayor was behind it - piece of shit that one - but now it seems there's a whole lot more to the story."

'... I'll stop calling you Lancelot if you find that key.' Luci eyes the pile of rubbish indicated with disgust.

'Oh it's Lucielle by the way. Luci. Magician.' She pulls a pack cards out her pocket and waves them we a grin. 'I would be careful. You may find you regret getting the answers Life was definitely easier for me when I was swin.. Entertaining people with cards and not away of.. All this.'

"Magician?" Brydon asks, raising an eyebrow, "As in, uh, card tricks, right?" He suddenly gets an urge to check his wristwatch, reaching over to feel its there while quickly averting his gaze down to it - only a split second reaction, but noticeable.

"Not all magic is black," Galaine offers helpfully, fetching the key and opening the locked door to the armory. As it swings wide, the knight adds, "She does not brook demons or trolls, nor conjure up hellspawn or witchlights. She can be trusted, Brydon."

Luci's eyes follow Brydon's movements. 'Rude. Just card tricks, sleight of hand.. tiny bit of psychic ability. The usual. I don't lift watches or wallets. Not anymore. Much at least. She'd learned her lesson in the past. The lesson to be very careful on picking her targets of course.

As the door opens she whistles as she looks around. '... so we can grab whatever she want right.' She calls back out to Martin even as she starts to look through and inspect stuff. For those watching closes a small pistol immeadiatly gets tucked into her jacket even before their host has a chance to answer. She wasn't going to get caught without a gun again.

Galaine follows Luci into the armory, and is immediately attracted to a number of medieval weapons standing in old racks and mounted on the walls. They are old, and obviously real and of much higher quality than the modern reproductions the wayward knight has been forced to carry. He unburdens himself of the shield he carries that's been made from a stop sign, and his beautiful but easy to damage Lord of the Rings replica longsword. Hefting several weapons as he tries them, the man smiles wider than anyone has ever seen before.

"Do you have mail, as well?" he asks Martin, testing the balance of a sword he particularly likes the weight of.

"I don't think the weapons have genders, King Arthur," Xavier quips to Galaine. Xavier browses the weapons, looking for something sophisticated. "Got any Super Soakers? We could fill them with garlic infused holy water." He did spy two grenades. When he asks Martin, he says they are "wood and garlic shrapnel grenades." Xavier takes both. "I'll settle for some silver bullets for the rest."

"I'll grab a few of those myself," Bryden says regarding the silver bullets. He reaches and grabs a handful of rounds of .38 silver-tipped rounds, shoving them into his pocket. "Oh, hell - what are these?" He hands maneuvers nearby to a box labeled Hell's Shells. Picking it up and opening it, he finds an assortment of carefully labeled shotgun shells - Garlic Rock Salt, Silver Pellets, Wrought Iron Beads, and a couple others. He grabs the whole box, plus some regular shells nearby and scans the weapons themselves. He spots a smart-looking, short-barreled deal on the wall and removes it, flicking the switch on the attached light - UV, high intensity, nice. "Martin! This is some cool shit!" he yells into the other room. He grabs cool-looking knife then walks out, helping himself to a small box of toothpicks on Martin's kitchen counter. He pops one into his mouth and pockets the rest.



"So, what exactly is our play here? Michelle's clearly on our side, right? She's got clout with the city, people listen to her. I think we need to find where she is and bust her out of there, if she's even still alive."

Brydon stops, alert. "You order another pizza, Martin?"

Galaine has better armed himself and is searching for chainmail when the knock comes at the door. Moving back out of the vault, he has his new steel bared. "Are you expecting a visitor?" he asks Martin.