New roleplay idear ( i dont have a name yet :S)

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He reaches back and scratches his head.

"Well yer already trustin me to give you good ammo, I don't need all of it right now, but half would certainly make it easier to get em, my credit's good but it ain't that good."

With that he gathered his cans and brought them to a large man in tattered vest, who was also selling goods. After a short exchange the man nodded and Eddie returned with the stocking in his hand.

"Paulie gonna keep an eye on my stuff, you wanted these right now you said? They're old but should still do the job."
 
"Alright. So, half?"
He took his backpack off and reached into it. He pulled out two black leather bags, then a white leather bag about half the size of the other two. He handed them to the ghoul, "I'm feeling generous. Here's 250, you don't need to worry about it now, I'd just rather get it all at once, then I'll give you the other half. So, when can I meet you tomorrow?"
 
"I can be back here two hours after dawn. Some a my guys don't open til tomorra morning."

Eddie takes the bags from the man and places them in a ammo can along with the rounds, then takes off out the front and disappears down the street into the crowds of people.
 
Skytzoe took a drag of his cigarette as he watched the ghoul disappear into the crowd. He looked at his watch, turning the dial on the face. He turned and began walking back to his hotel, dropping the cigarette and stepping it out.
The druggie twitched, sliding the magazine into the handgun. He was going through jet withdrawals. He saw someone walking across the alley. He made his move.
"Don't do anything funny, man. Just give me your money and everything will be fine."
Skytzoe sighed, turning his head slightly. He reached to his hip as the addict outstretched his hand, assuming his demands were going to be met.
Skytzoe removed his hand from his hip, clutching a black chrome revolver as long as his forearm. The right side of the barrel read, "TAURUS", the right side reading, "RAGING BULL." Above the name of the gun it read ".500 MAGNUM." Skytzoe raised the gun at his assailant, "Either you can walk away, or you get a hole the size of a watermelon in your chest."
The druggie panicked, pulling the trigger of his gun, the response of the gun being a click. Two more clicks, "What the fuck?"
The addict was hit on his head by the bottom of the handle of the massive revolver, he dropped his pistol. Skytzoe quickly picked up the pistol. Skytzoe holstered his revolver, and pulled back the slide on the pistol. He simply laughed, "Wow. I can't believe it."
Skytzoe aimed the pistol at the mugger, firing a round into his shoulder. The addict grabbed his shoulder as he yelled in pain. Skytzoe dropped the pistol, "It's a good idea to cock it first."
Skytzoe continued down the sidewalk, slipping his hands in his pockets.
 
Marshall returned empty handed with an empty stomach, back the alleyway. Derrick was back there, the slum jet-dealer who swayed off his own product, talking to head of the "El Mochez", an underground local gang. El Mochez was almost dominated by Mexican survivor who ventured from the horrifically mutated South. They dealt heavily in drugs(mostly jet but pot had a place in their inventory), extortion, prostitution and gun running.

The man was dressed in all black, mint condition three-piece suit with a matching fedora. His cigar illuminated abit of his goatee'd face but the darkness only spoke of shadows. His voice spoke of reprimands and redemption.

"Look, I can't peddle a kilo.. I can't Diego.. not enough junkies on this block.. And if I try the one over, I'll get shot by Niko If I'm his turf", Derrick trembled from his cracked, dry voice.

Marshall watched on from the dumpster, where he usually sat, as he puffed on an illicit marijuana cigarette.

"This is the last time I'll tell you... Carlos already wants you dead. I'm giving you til tomorrow nightfall. Don't make me a fool. I'll be around", Diego said as he opened his suit, revealing a .45 and kept his hand on it for intimidation.

Derrick was a rat bastard towards Marshall, since he never had alot of change. One time Marshall had given the dealer ten caps for a sack of marijuana, since he didn't dwindle with hard drug, and he came back with tobacco. Ever since then, Marshall never said one word to the piss ant, often plotting against him anyway he could/

Marshall objected,"Derrick's been smokin' your shit! He ain't dealin', I see him all night inhalin' that jet!". Derrick's face went pale.

Marshall knew it wasn't true. But fuck 'em, gangs were always looking for a cheap hitman or courier.

"What?" Diego said as he turned back around as he began to walk away "Is this true?"

Derrick paused. Derrick pulled his pistol up, and loaded a full clip into the hobo-dealer, dropping him and his rags to the concrete below. The man looked over at Marshall, silent.

"You need a job?"

Marshall swallowed harshly.

"Absolutely."
 
The next morning Eddie was right where he said he would be, only this time he was against the wall of the foyer, and had a shotgun resting across his shoulders as he waited for his client.
 
He walked down the street, wearing another black suit, except this time he wore a white vest, white gloves and a white bandana around his face, adding contrast to the rest of his black clothing. He entered the alleyway, pulling the bandana off his face to around his neck. As he approached Eddie he took off his hat, shaking his shoulder-length hair before replacing his hat. As he reached the ghoul he took out a black and pink pack of cigarettes, slipping one between his lips before lighting it. He looked at his watch before taking a drag of his cigarette. He took off his mostly transparent silver tinted glasses, looking at them before replacing them back on. He took another look at his watch, this time taking longer. He then lowered his wrist, "Times up. By the way, do you have any assault rifles?"
 
By morning, Marshall was leaving El Mochez's compound. He shaved his face, revealing a somewhat-handsome face. He was completely different in appearence. Marshall had been given a set of poorly condition suit, dirty and tattered at spots but the grey suit looked quaint for Reno and him.

Diego had given him a very sensible ultimatum, go back to the alleyway and lead a life of homelessness and poverty. Or, become a low-hand muscle. Marshall jumped at the opportunity. Diego gave him a spare suit, a 9mm pistol and two clip full and 50 caps.

His first assignment was to shake down any unregulated merchants hooching off El Mochez's turf. He was to report back at dusk, giving Diego or Chico, his right hand man, 90% of the earnings. Marshall was happy with a tenth cut.

His first thought after being instructed was Eddie...
 
Eddie perked up when he saw the man approach, before he made it over Eddie bent down and opened the can at his feet and pulled out 5 small boxes.

"There ya are, right on time. I'll tell ya, I was runnin all over Reno all night, but I got em, every damn hand cannon in New Reno!"

He handed the boxes to the man to inspect.

"Not quite as many as ya wanted but they're all good, can't tell ya how many bad rounds they tried to give me."

The boxes were some of the original packaging, two boxes of 25 .500 magnum, two boxes of 25 Cassulls, and the fifth box held a few overflow from the full boxes. About 110 rounds in all.


"Assult rifle? Paulie's got an old Kalashnikov, it needs a new slide and probably a new pin, but I'm sure I could get it shootin straight fer ya."

Then after a moments pause.

"If ya don't mind my askin, where ya headdin?"
 
He took was seemed like a unnecessarily long drag from his cigarette. He didn't exhale the smoke, he simply let the breath from his voice expel the smoke from his mouth, "California for a bit. Then I might be headed out to the east coast. How much would that AK cost after the repairs?"
He ashed his cigarette, sliding off his backpack.
 
guys mind if I jump in. this sounds like something i can get into, not many rules and looks like it just started
 
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