He stepped through the glowing door, leaving behind the dreary city alley behind him. As soon as he was through, the door shut, leaving him in view of the pure white cleanliness of the hallway. He wandered down it for a bit until he came to a split. That's when he heard a woman's voice.

"Do you think he'll make it?"

"I doth perceive he shall, Sentara, otherwise, the Maker wouldst not have summoned him unto our realm."

"Pascheon, I think she was asking if he'd make it to us, not through the struggles ahead."

"Well, thou would knowest such things, wouldn't thou, Ruteuf. Thou always hath had the talent for being exceedingly mysterious about events forthcoming. Verily, I daresay thou doest so well at keeping us in the dark."

"Listen here, you tin plated artifact, I keep the future secret for the good of the present. You have no problem telling us how things used to be. Jeeze, you won't shut up about it."

"Guys, he's here." Russel walked through an archway to see three people standing on a dais. The man who had been obviously referred to as Pascheon stood stooped over a bit in a bronze suit of armor, a grey beard flowing out the faceplate and trailing on the floor between his legs. His features were a mask of severity as they looked Russel over. The woman wore more modern clothing, a blue t-shirt and jeans with a emerald pendant dangling from her neck. She smiled and waved as Russel moved on to the next man. He stood in a hooded cloak, the only things visible being a kind face and black choker with red markings all over it. He stepped down from the dais and extended a hand.

"Russel Smith, welcome to the in-between parts of the Reality Sphere. We have a job for you."