Temporal Rift RPG

[The Kingpin]

"Hm. Interesting" responded Jacob thoughtfully as he took a closer look at the panel, taking a moment to digest the information he'd just been given. "From what we can see, whatever caused that phenomenon may or may not be blocked by my cybernetic implants or the suit. Whether that really is the case or it's just a matter of proximity and I wasn't exposed to it the way you were is something that'll need repeated exposure to find out" he added after a few moments of thought...

[C S]

"It's a real *******, this Rift science," Kane stated plainly. A smile crawled onto his face and then he started to laugh. "Oh, what the hell," he said, raising his hands and striking a post straight out of a sitcom, what can you do? "It's something to add to the logs, alright," he said as he tapped another button with the stylus, the data being cleared from the screens with a single wipe. He put the pen in its designated tray and asked, "So, what great endeavor will we set off on today?"

[The Kingpin]

"I dunno. I'm itching to punch something in the face. Something big. We shouldn't make that our mission, of course, but knowing the Rift, that'll end up happening anyway" said Jacob nonchalantly as he swivelled back and forth in his seat casually...

[C S]

Kane turned back to face his console, pressing a single key to bring up Felicity's time keeping spread. A calendar at first glance, upon closer inspection it was clear that the slots that donated the passing days were procedurally generated. The next day in the sequence had yet to be calculated. The chart displayed the time of day to the nearest Earth equivalent: around eight PM currently, the weather: overcast with ground fog cutting unaided visibility down considerably, and the time since mission start, T+122:22:01:30.


"It's been five days since we had to engage with any threats. Granted, we've been doing all we can to make the odds align in our favor, but still." Kane began the startup procedure for take off, flipping switches and pressing down red and clear buttons. The cockpit's lights flicked on one after the other, mechanical humming resonating through the hull.

"Maybe we'll find a bar somewhere on this nightly ride. It'll take you back, I'm sure."

[The Kingpin]

"Don't remind me. I've been wanting a Brandy ever since we set foot in this bloody place" responded the Mercenary as he lay back in his seat, thankful for the comfort afforded by the OWL design team. At least that was one thing he had going for him. Before the Rift job he was used to rough, uncomfortable government issue tech. The only places he enjoyed any form of luxury were at his safehouses and a villa on an island in the South Pacific. And now here he was; the one place in the universe where nothing he once had mattered. All that did matter now was himself, his gun, and whatever his designated opponent for the day, week, month or year happened to be. He was a hunter. This world...this Rift...was his prey. Until Atlas re-established contact with the Rift, that was all there was to his life. All that really mattered...

[C S]

Kane only chuckled as the last of the text crawled across his flight computer, the lines of software checks flickering a few times before disappearing from the screen. He took the flight controls in his hands and pushed down on them, the engines spooling up with their distinctive wail, muted in the cockpit.

The segmented flaps lining the rim of the jets flexed. Plumes of exhaust descended upon the ground, refuse blown away with the roar of Felicity's engines. The orange and black ship left the ground and retracted its landing gear before the nacelles angled themselves forwards and sent it tearing across the dark skies over desolation.

From the air, the fog that rolled over the land was like a blue-gray sea, churning constantly. The ground looked the part of some kind of seabed from what the two had seen, dunes in the form of windblown striations, chasms where the sand turned to black rock, and innumerable wrecked vehicles familiar and alien at the same time populated the eerie desert, lying motionless underneath the thick fog. The ghosts of ships far from any ocean. Skeletons in the form of black silhouettes around Felicity.

The Dumping Grounds were enormous stretches of silent ravages. The fog was not too far reaching, however. Felicity soared over the advancing front of gray in the better part of an hour. A distant light in the sky overtook the gloom of the mist, what appeared to be a small moon plastered onto the ambiguous sky. It shone down on a region of sparse vegetation that gradually grew more fertile and wild the farther Felicity flew. Before long, the wrecks on the ground were hidden underneath the canopy of woods, with spires decorated by points of light visible in the distance.

A city standing with living soil and plentiful scrapheaps on its outskirts. The proverbial dice rolled in the favor of the people who lived there. If they were even what one would call people, that is.

[The Kingpin]

Jacob watched as Felicity soared onwards towards what seemed to be a genuine, honest to god city. Vast forests spanned the distance between the ship and the metropolis, and in that moment the Mercenary was reminded of the lush jungles surrounding the cities of South-East Asia. Memories of hot, humid slums on the peripheries of these tropical cities came back to him, the stench of the slums, the buzz of the mosquitoes almost loud enough to drown out the buzz of the populace itself. He remembered those days well. During the mid 2020s he had been forced to operate in that region extensively, cutting down soldiers and priority targets to diffuse a potential war breaking out...