Welcome to Paradigm Shift, a superpower-based role playing board.
Should you have any questions, please feel free to contact members of the staff.
We strongly advise that you go through the general board information before doing anything else.
We hope you enjoy your stay!
News
Welcome to the Paradigm Reboot!
10.06.2015
Thanks
10.06.2015
The board will officially be starting on Monday October 12! Make sure your bios are in so you can take part of the opening ceremony!
10.08.2015
Info
Staff
Spotlight
ROLEPLAYER
Of The Month
CHARACTER
Of The Month
THREAD
Of The Month
COUPLE
Of The Month
Mr. Pike Place had given you two a call each with an offer for a job that he'd found. It was nothing big, a milk run really. And it would give them a bit of kred with one of the local go gangers. Namely the crazy eights.
They were a group of bikers and thugs, small-time crime but they had a decent sized chunk of the dock area that they called home. The borders would ebb and flow with their influence, but they were nothing if not stubborn and willing to fight for what they believed to be theirs. The meeting place was a small deli about a mile from the edge of their turf. One of those hole in the wall joints run by an aging dwarf and his much younger elven daughter.
The client himself, a big burly Troll with half of his left horn missing and scars destroying what otherwise might have been a handsome face sat at one of the window booths. An Ares Preditor Pistol on the table and a bat wrapped in barbed wire strapped to his back. He was currently devouring a sandwich that was some combination of six types of meat, three kinds of cheese and judging by the smell, two types of pickles.
Winter would enter mostly quietly, depending of whether or not the door to the deli had a bell on it. She would take a quick glance around the place before her gaze settled on the troll.
Ah. She recognized that pistol for sure.
The way he eats does make her pause, but she brushes it aside and heads over to him.
« Last Edit: Nov 25, 2017 10:19:01 GMT -6 by Winter »
Not but a minute after Winter entered, Drifter would walk in to the building, eyes roaming across the room rather quickly. One of the first things he'd learned was to watch his surroundings, and today would be no different.
Once he'd caught sight of the client, however, he'd slowly make his way over. Calmly, so as not to seem rushed, but not without all due caution. His eyes glance at the woman briefly, as he's almost unsure of which is the client, but he finds himself staring at the troll for the moment.
His head turned toward the door with the ringing of the bell twice in quick succession. His massive face immediately split into a large smile upon seeing them. Pike had given him a brief description of who to expect.
"Come! Sit! Sit!"
He roared in demand, waving them over with an exaggerated gesture, some pickle and mustard from his sandwich flying against the table and the open seats for his guests.
Winter would glance back at the second sound of the bell, of course always wary of who was in proximity of her. Upon hearing the troll joyfully invite them over however, she relaxed and casually picked up a napkin to wipe away the mustard and pickle from both seats.
She sits and smiles, giving a polite nod to both men.
"Thank you for your thoughtfulness, perhaps we could discuss business in the meantime." she says gently, only meaning to get started while their...delightful food is made.
If he heard Drifter's complaint he pretended not to, instead of polishing off his sandwich with another massive bite.
"Right." He'd start to lick his fingers clean. "To business." Each sausage sized finger would leave his mouth with an audible pop between words.
"Have either of you ever heard of the Devil Kin?"
A gang that is set up a few blocks for where they were sitting now. Primarily Trolls and Orcs. Recently they've been clashing with the Crazy Eights, though in the past they'd had a large clash with the Slipstream. A group of deckers that had a hand in the sim sense and BTL markets.
"Well, recently they grew some balls and took something that don't belong to them. What I want for you to do is simple. I want you to go into the heart of their territory and I want you to kill their lieutenant, Crisco. And I want you to tag the area with this."
He'd reach into his pocket and pull out a crumpled piece of paper with a gang sign on it. The sign of the Slipstream.
"I'll be taking back what they took and more when we make our move." He assured Winter as the slender Elvish maiden slide two plates with identical sandwiches in front of the runners.
"Thanks for that Susan."
The Troll said dismissively toward the waitress before jerking his head toward Drifter.
"You catch on quick. I'll leave the fine artistic details to you fine folks. I'm not one to stifle your artistic flair." His face broke into another pleased smile.
"The job pays Three Thousand. If you both live you can split it. If not then you can keep the whole thing. So we got a deal?"
He leveled a gaze at the man. Three thousand creds and he was balking at buying spray paint? He considered it for a moment before deciding it was small enough to not bother with haggling.
"Fine. He'd dig into his pocket and would place a small cred stick on the table. The display would show that it had twenty Nuyen on it. More than enough to buy the paint needed.
"Pike will wire you the money when we have confirmation that the job is done."
Winter nods but doesn't say much more. The man she was working with was interesting. She'd never personally laid down any conditions or requests. Or really complained about anything when it came to a job. Seemed...wrong?
There was an unspoken threat as the massive troll picked up his gun as he stood up. Holstering it he'd nod to the Dwarf and the Elf running shop and make his way out of the shop.