The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Welldrinker Cult
A shadowy group is gaining power, drawing in people who are curious, vulnerable, or malicious, and turning them into Mystics. They are recruiting people into their ranks to spread the influence of magic in the world, but for what end goal?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
Agnes Nicholas, student, runaway, mutant, sighed as she sat at the edge of her bed, listening to the soft sounds of breathing coming from Gina’s side of the room. Her adoptive sister was sleeping so soundly that Agnes did not want to disturb her. To be honest she doubted she could. The little mutant had a way of sleeping that not even a stick of dynamite could wake her up. But at least she did not snore…so far as Agnes had been able to tell. So the runaway smiled a little as she watched Gina sleep before she turned around to face the one and only desk in the room. On top of it were scattered papers, a few pencils and pens that needed to be put away and a pair of books. Left over homework from the semester.
A glance to Gina again and Agnes slowly moved herself off of her bed and made her way over to the desk, making sure to step as lightly as possible. She was not going to interrupt Gina’s sleep just because she herself could not force herself to close her eyes. She could not do it, it was too hard to these days.
It was the dreams.
Every since her meeting with Rhythm, Agnes flashed back to the horrible nightmares she had been having before she came to the mansion. But they were not just scary images and flashes left over from a day of experiences…they were memories.
The whole reason Agnes had lived in the streets, the reason why she never let anyone get close to her was simply because of what her parents had done to her nearly a year ago. It was the experience that they forced upon her, the pain and torture that they inflicted only because of their medieval way of thinking was unable to accept or grasp what it is she truly was. It was because of that ignorance that Agnes would now carry these scars the rest of her life. Scars that would forever remind her about the close-mindedness that comes from being unable to understand. She would forever be marred.
Agnes shuddered as she thought on this. Those marks would always be a part of her. They would always mock her every time she looked into a mirror. They will glare at her whenever it was she decided that she cared for someone enough to go to that intimate level with them. She nearly did with Rhythm, she wanted to. Deep down she could feel that passion as it burned her up from the inside out, but…once those scars were touched, the fires died away. And Agnes was left as an empty, scarred husk, like she was for so many months prior.
Walking up to the desk, Agnes pulled out the chair and carefully slipped into the seat. She stared at the scattered material, seemingly lost for a second in her own thoughts. It was only after she took a deep breath as she grabbed a small black and white composition book from the edge and flipped it open to its first blank page. Grabbing a pen that had nearly rolled off the side, Agnes clicked it open to ready the writing utensil and stared at the lined pages. She had to be absolutely insane for wanting to go through with this…but she had to. It was time she wrote down and faced exactly what had happened. Even as she wrote, her memories vividly flashed before her eyes.
Agnes sniffled as she sat at the corner of her own bed, knees up to her chest, staring out into the distance on the other side of her window. The school was closed for another day and Agnes still was feeling anxiety about the whole thing. It was evident by the way she nervously pulled at the edge of her sleeves that covered her hands, and knocked her toes over and over again. She looked as if she were some unfortunate soul living out in the streets, unable to get her grip on reality anymore because of one illegal substance or another. But however twitchy Agnes was…that was not the reason.
The reason was because only a few days ago she watched as nearly all of her student died around her in horrific ways.
Shakily, Agnes glanced over at a plate that held a white bread sandwich with only one bite in it. The glass of milk that sat next to it had also been untouched. She did not know how much she had eaten within the last few days but she was sure that she could count the total number of bites on a single hand. She just…she didn’t have the appetite. Everything taste like ash, dust, blood and bile. And in the end, the only thing she could say to herself was…
“Why did I survive?” she whispered.
She could still see all of it so clearly. It was just supposed to be an everyday, normal lunch. Instead…she watched as her peers sitting to her left and right started to suddenly go through changes. They sprouted feathers, or shot lasers from their hands, or turned into monsters, or a number of other things. It was like they were all becoming mutants and the transformation was so painful for all of them. But that was not the end of it. Agnes remember sitting there, shocked as everyone began to implode from their own abilities. They screamed, their powers overtook them, their minds and bodies lost to the “gifts” that so many of them wished they had whenever they watched a costumed hero on the news. They all achieved their deepest desires…until it all backfired.
Agnes had to watch dumbstruck and all her friends, enemies and strangers began to die around her. They dropped from the air, burned up, or killed one another. It was a pure massacre and one that would scar her psyche for the rest of her life. But she got out alive, she managed to live…
…but only because she turned out to be a mutant too. She still remember the first wave of roaches and flies that attempted to cling to her. She screamed and shook them all off bet they just kept coming. She figured this was it, this was how she was going to die…but she was wrong. Even as she climbed through a pile of fallen mashed potatoes, and tripped on a wayward backpack, the second she flipped onto her back and felt that first bug climb onto her lips…
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK![/b]
Agnes snapped out of her thoughts and turned to the door.
“Agnes? It’s your mother. You need to open the door.”
Agnes cleared her throat as she wiped the tears away from her cheeks. The bitter tears that came whenever she thought about that lunch period. She was eating her up, everything that she experienced, all the people she watched die. She still could not believe that she made it through all that, survived as a mutant. It was because of those bugs that her life was spared but god…it was so disgusting. This type of ability…the ‘things’ that dwelled within her now…the thought of it just made her sick.
Knock! Knock!
“Agnes, open this door right now,” her mother called out more sternly.
Wiping one more tear away, Agnes nodded as she stepped off her bed. “Yes, mother. I’m coming.”
Agnes disheveled herself a little, to make it look like she had just woken up from a nap. She did not want her mother to worry anymore that she was not eating or drinking anything. Her parents did their best to not question her about what she saw in the cafeteria, about the horrors that she witnessed, but that did not mean they were not going to watch her like hawks. They were all simply waiting around for her to break and finally reveal everything that had occurred that day. Instead though, she managed to hold up in her room without so much as spilling a single bean. But she could not keep that up for long, that was why her mother was there now.
Reaching down, Agnes unlocked the door and opened it up to reveal the stern look of her mother, Maria Nicholas. Maria was every inch Italian with a what were once soft features, yet hardened brown eyes. Her black and gray hair was pulled back into a tight bun. Not a single stray hair was poking out. Her dress was homemade, a rough yet affordable dark gray material that had no happiness or joy to it. It was simply a garment down to its simplest definition. Her calloused, winkled hands holding tight to one another, the make-up-less woman arched a brow as she peered over Agnes shoulder and spied that her daughter still had not eaten anything.
“Still nothing?”
“N-No, mother,” Agnes whispered in response, keeping her eyes trained on the ground. “I…I could get hungry later. I’m…saving it.”
Her mother peered at her closely, as if gauging what Agnes had just said. Something the young girl could swear that her mother was a judge and jury because she had this solid look about her that did not allow for compassion. She appraised every situation as closely as possible without letting a single motion slip by. And she was she judging Agnes in the same way right now. The older woman continued to peer closely at her before she finally simply stepped forward, which forced Agnes to step out of the way.
Agnes stepped back to let her mother walk in, then, grabbed a chair for her and carried it over to a spot near her bed. She knew this type of conversation so she knew exactly what she needed to do.
Once she set the chair down for her mother, Agnes took a seat at the edge of her bed, picked up her bible and placed it gently over her lap.
Her mother seemed to nod approvingly as she then took a seat across from her daughter, her own massive bible held in her hands. She placed it on her skirt as she sat and looked over Agnes closely. As she watched, she reached over and motioned for Agnes to sit up straight and not slouch. It was not until a couple seconds passed that she finally spoke in her quiet, gravely voice.
Agnes paused, frozen and unsure of what to say. Her mother had that stern look, as if she knew that Agnes was hiding some type of secret, which was forbidden in this house. “Secrets were the language of the devil!” that’s what her mother used to always say. But how did she find out? The young teen was still trying to come to grips with the fact that she could very well be a mutant but she had not slipped up. She had not attempted her abilities anywhere in the house, nor had she told anyone about it! So…how could her mother know anything about this?
“I’m waiting,” her stern mother announced.
Agnes gulped a little as she choked her words, trying to figure out exactly what to say. “I…I’m sorry…I…”
“You did not read your bible passage last night, young lady.” Her mother finally announced out of irritation. “How do you hope to cleanse your soul of all you saw without devout readings?”
That was it? Agnes thought, relieved. She could not show it on her face, but she was happily beyond belief that that was all that was on her mother’s mind. She would have hated to explain that she might indeed be a mutant without know for sure, herself. So far it seemed she was doing good hiding his fact. Her mother was only questioning her because she did not hear her make her night prayers.
“I…apologize. I was…I was just so tired last night.” Agnes squeaked.
“Laziness is not an excuse for the Lord,” she announced. With that, she opened up her Bible and nodded to Agnes that she do the same. “That is why so many of your so called ‘classmates’ were dragged down to hell at that school.”
“Excuse me?” Agnes asked.
“Do not sit there and defend them,” her mother announced matter of factly. “They were sinners, all of them were. They deserved what fates befell them. God cannot save those who do not listen. That is what they get for their types of clothing, their fornications and their partaking of the evil one’s delights.”
“But…they were all just teenagers…” Agnes squeaked out. She could not believe what she was hearing.
“That is no excuse.” Her mother snapped. “You know better. Now, you will read with me to make up for not reading last night. I will not let my daughter be tainted from such an experience.”
As her mother began to read in a passionate voice about the dangers of hell and those who suffer from its embrace, Agnes could help but get angry. How dare her mother talk like that! These were innocent kids, all of them just like her, all of them just trying to have an average lunch. None of them knew what fate was in store for them when they grabbed their lunch trays and sat down with their particular group of friends. Was having friends enough to condemn something these days? How could her mother act in that manner? How…DARE she say some many horrible things like that? Many of those kids were so sweet, some extremely nice to her when she transferred…
The tone of her mother’s voice was lost in the seething that boiled up in back of Agnes mind. All she could see was her mother’s self-righteousness and how wrong it all was. She had no right! No right AT ALL…!
BBbbbbbuuuuuuzzzZzzzzzzzzzzzzzz….[/b]
Agnes looked around confused…where was that buzzing coming from?
“And those whom know carnal knowledge of the same gender shall –!” her mother paused in her feverish preaching as she suddenly looked around, wondering where that strange noise was coming from.
Agnes was just as much confused as she looked around, trying to find where that buzzing was. It was not a phone on vibrate or anything, especially since she did not own one. Instead though, the buzzing sounded more…organic and lively; like it was a mass of tiny creature all nudging and bumping into each other unknowingly. But where was it coming from? Was there a beehive stuck in her wall or something? It had to be that because it seemed pretty close to where she was sitting. Maybe it was behind her, in the wall or…
Her skin began to vibrate. Agnes nearly jumped as she felt something move in her chest. Reach up she touched that area, scared and curious as to what that tingling sensation was. In a panic Agnes helplessly skittered back against the wall as she felt her hand on her buzzing chest. It was as if her heart had suddenly been put on a higher speed and it was trying to separate itself from her body. Fearfully she clung onto her chest but that seemed to only be making the vibrating and buzzing worse. The harder she breathed, the more frightful she became, the stronger and louder that buzzing became. It was soon drawing her mother’s attention on her.
“Agnes?” the mother asked confused as she crept closer to the fearful teenager. “What is that? What’re you doing?”
“N-Nothing! It…It’s not me! I swear!”
“You…you are making that noise?” She announced before she slammed the bible closed. “What is it that you have? One of damned friend’s grotesque items? A phone? A pager?! What is it!?” She screamed as she reached over in an attempt to grab whatever she imagined Agnes holding to her chest.
“NO! Mom, stop!”
“Give it to me right now!!” she screamed as she clawed and pried Agnes’ hands apart. As she did, she found nothing and only looked at her daughter with confusion.
Agnes had no idea that this was going to happen. She really did not. Ever since the school incident she did not use her new found abilities. She did discover the increased presence of bugs in her room, or wherever she went, but what she did not count on was what happened next. The tingling was beyond controllable in her chest and it felt as if all her skin wanted to crawl off her own body. It was her panic and her anger that was causing it, anger towards her mother, but try as she might, she simply could not contain it. The buzzing from her chest, the crawling feeling in her throat…it was not long before it was too much to handle.
“What is it!?” her mother shouted.
Then, in an attempt to reply, Agnes opened her mouth. It was the biggest mistake she would ever make.
At first she thought she was a dragon, bellowing out a cloud of black smoke. It was so dense that’s very well what it could have been. But she had never before seen smoke with tiny legs and wings as it fluttered about. She gagged as she felt them crawling out, the tiny wasps and flies as they flew from her mouth and the roaches as they poured and fell from her lips and onto her chest. It was a truly disgusting sight but even worse to feel as they all came from her. Try as she might, she could not will herself to close her mouth and they just kept coming until she felt herself empty.
Then, as if in response, all the little guardians flew at once towards the only moving thing in the room…her mother. They swarmed her head, bumping, stinging, climbing in through any openings in her face they could find. On top of all that, as her mother screamed and gagged on the disease ridden vermin, the roaches that fell from Agnes’ mouth skittered across her bed and onto the floor where they proceeded to climb up the mother’s leg. The devoutly religious woman could do only one thing…scream.
Agnes…terrified, scooted herself to the corner of her bed as she watched her mother flail and swat at the vermin. There was nothing that the teen girl could say or do to help and instead she sat there, staring as her mother screamed. When the majority of them had finally backed away, Maria gasped as she gave one glaring look at her daughter…then ran for the door.
One full day passed and Agnes door had not been opened or knocked at once. That would not have been so bad…except for the fact that she could not open the door at all! After the insects attacked her mother and she ran out, Agnes waited a least a good two hours before she attempted to go out and apologize. She felt back because those insects came from her body, but she had no idea that was going to happen. She did not know that making her become so upset would cause them all to suddenly erupt and attack the first person in sight! After all, since the high school incident, she had swallowed the bugs but never seen them again. She did not know that they were just…there, waiting inside her! And…she was being punished for it?
For a good hour, Agnes banged on the door, struggled with the knob and kicked and screamed to be let out. It was all to no avail. She did not even hear her parents on the other side. Maybe her mother was more freaked out than she thought and they simply ran away and left her locked in her room? She highly doubted that…for the first couple of hours. Before she knew it though she really felt as if she were entirely alone.
Then the night came and Agnes still heard nothing. She could see that the hallway light was on because of the glow that peeked in from underneath the edge of the door, so someone had to be home right? But the hours ticked by at a maddeningly slow pace. There were no footsteps, no whispers and the sounds she thought she heard from downstairs could have easily have come from outside. Maybe she was completely and utterly alone. Sitting in the dark of her room, knees up to her chest and rocking herself gently, she began to curse herself and…whatever these disgusting powers were that she developed. Because of them…she was an abandoned child.
It was not until late that night, maybe around one or two in the morning that she finally heard the sound of a door closing down the stairs. Weakly, since she was forced to ration the sandwich and milk that had been left in her room, she stood up and made her way towards the door. She knocked once…then twice…and screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Mom! Dad! Please! I-I’m sorry! I…I didn’t mean…!” she gasped through her hoarse throat and banged on the door more. “Please let me out! PLEASE! I’m your DAUGHTER!!”
But it was all to no avail. Before she knew it, weakness and weariness set in and Agnes had to abandon her screaming at the door. Taking several weak steps back, the teen collapsed down onto her bed and sat there, cupping her face in her hands. The tears were uncontrollable now as they began to pour freely down her cheeks. She sniffled, moaned and cried her heart out, attempting to ignore the buzz that started up in her chest again. Angrily she clenched her fist, bit her lip and began to beat her own chest with her fist!
“Shut up! Get the hell out of me!!” she cried as she beat and clawed at her own skin. But, unable to keep it up for longer, Agnes Nicholas sniffled threw herself onto her side on the bed. Agonizingly she cried, hugging her pillow herself as she attempted to get herself under some type of control.
Gently though, through her blurry eyes and her sore, wet cheeks, the teen curled up into a ball and, in the darkness of her room slowly drifted off to sleep.
It was hours before Agnes woke up and when she did, all she saw was the light as it drifted in through her window. It was morning already and the second that she attempted to move, she felt a grinding hunger inside of her stomach. It was so deep and so painful that it made Agnes momentarily curl up tighter into a ball as she tried to focus on anything else besides food. So long ago her parents had locked that door and now she had no idea what to do. How could they simply abandon her like this? What on earth were they doing? She knew she heard footsteps earlier before she passed out, but…could they really just be waiting out there? What for? Where they waiting for her to apologize more? Maybe they simply wanted her to die…
Agnes knew about their feelings towards mutants, so it was not simply because of what she did to her mother that she was being punished. The problem here was that her parents had a decided and unending hatred for mutants. Oh…the things they would call them…
“Monsters!”
“Fiends!”
“They’re inhuman!”
“No souls! They’re demon possessed!”
“They cannot receive God’s love!”
So many times she had heard these exact same arguments over and over again. The theory her parents held onto was simply that all mutants were simply humans who were possessed by demons. The evil spirits granted them powers before their wildest dreams but in doing so, their souls became corrupted. They gradually slipped further and further away into the realms of decadence and immorality. They were damned people who should receive nothing but their pity and prayers.
For the longest time, Agnes believed that. She prayed right along with her parents…but that changed obviously. The teen still felt like herself, obviously. She did not think she was any different. She did not feel particularly evil, or insidious, instead she just felt like she always felt, except, obviously, for the swarm of insects that took up residence inside of her chest. But as disgusting as that was…she did not feel like she was possessed. Maybe…just maybe her parents were wrong…
But they were not going to open the door any time soon. Maybe they did want her to die. The knowledge of that made the weakened Agnes sit up in bed and pulled her legs back against her chest. Gently she began to cry again as the actions of her parents began to weigh heavily upon her head. They had abandoned her! They could hear her from her door but…they were not moved in the least to open the door. What…kind of monster does that? What creature ignores the cries of its own child? They could not have been human to believe so strongly in their god that they would sacrifice her. This was wrong…she was finally beginning to understand just how wrong her parents were…
Her lips tightening, her teeth clenching, Agnes suddenly turned her eyes to the door and scream. “HELL WITH ALL OF YOU!!”
Click! Squeeeeak…
The door unlocked and was gently pushed open. Agnes sat there, staring through her tears at the silhouette at the doorway. It was both her mother and her father…
Zacheria and Maria Nicholas, father and mother to Agnes Nicholas, stood like a pair of dark sentinels at the doorway to the teenager’s room. The light behind them, from the hall, glowed around them, darkening how they looked to her. She could see no details of their face, or the details of their clothing, which for some reason looked odd and flowing. But the most disturbing feature of all was the simple fact that they did not say anything to her at first. Instead the pair of them seemed to just be staring at her from doorway as they held hands. It was maddening just looking at such an image, it was enough to make her skin crawl.
After what seemed like seconds transforming into hours of staring, Agnes finally snapped at the pair. She was definitely having enough of all of this.
“What?! Huh! What is it?” she cried as she moved herself onto her shaky legs. She was still pretty tired from the whole thing. “Why don’t you say anything?”
Still, their voices were still and their bodies were unmoving. Her parents simply stared at her, the whites of their eyes coming in through the darkness. It was not until Agnes seemed ready to sit again that they finally stirred. Their hardened faces became visible the second that they walked into the room but there was an expression in them that both terrified and confused Agnes. They looked as if their only child had died, as if they had been grieving. Their faces were pale and sunken, eyes red with hours of tears, lips chapped from not eating. They looked like shades, ghosts of their former selves. Agnes was terrified.
Their steps were slow and deliberate and as they crept closer to their terrified daughter, gently her father reached his hand out to her.
“My daughter. Please, just take my hand.”
Agnes sat there, dumfounded. “W-What? That’s…that’s all I get? Y-You locked me in my room for more than a day! You didn’t come check on me, you…ran like cowards!”
“We were simply getting things ready, my love,” her mother announced in a voice that was far too sweet than what she was used to.
Agnes glanced at her mother in a confused manner. It was then that they stepped close enough for her to see exactly what they were wearing. They were robes, black but lined with gold fringe. They were highly ritualistic looking and soft and more comfortable than any of the clothes her mother made for her. Around their necks they wore opulent gold chained crucifixes and other holy symbols. It looked as if they were getting ready to preach at some ceremony rather than talk to their daughter.
“Getting ready…for what?” Agnes asked slowly. The whole situation was suspicious.
Her mother looked at her longingly, full of sadness and despair. “You’ve let the devil into your heart, my love. You need to be cleansed.”
“What?” Agnes shouted as she stood up weakly. “T-this is not the devil. I’m…I’m just a…mutant. Mutant’s are not evil.”
“The devil attempts to deceive us in many forms,” her mother preached as she stepped to the side. “Even in that of a woman’s own child. He may have your body, but he shall not take your soul! I can save that.”
It was then that Agnes father suddenly stepped forward and seized the weaken teen by the back of her neck. Agnes screamed and flailed against her father but the man was much taller and much stronger than her. Instead, all Agnes could do was plead and cry and drag her feet as she attempted to get away. But it was all of no avail. Before she knew it, as she clawed at the doorway to stay in her room, she felt her nails break as she was finally pulled out, screaming the whole way downstairs.
Agnes could not decide which part of her body hurt the most. Those inflicted with tiny cuts from the ritualized cutting and bleeding, or those that had faced the snap of a whip, or her hoarse throat from crying so much. The teenager had never been in this much pain before that she was beginning to lose consciousness. Every once in awhile, out of exhaustion, Agnes would loll her head weakly then suddenly awaken from a quick blackness. There was just so much pain it was as if her mind were trying to shield her by forcing her to pass out and give herself a momentary break. Even now, after another horrific session she could feel her eyes slowly grow heavier…and heavier…and–
A gasp for air and Agnes awoke in total darkness. She had just passed out again. Every time she woke up she wanted this to be nothing more than a really bad dream. She wanted to wake up in her bed and scream for her mom or dad so they could read her more passages to rock her to sleep. But…this was no dream.
Agnes was hanging, some contraption that she had no idea how her parents even knew of it. It was too horrible to describe, but suffice it to say it’s sole purpose was to keep her tied down in mid-air. She could not describe it any better than that without causing herself to pass out once more. She remembered looking at it when her father and mother dragged her down the stairs. She remember how much she fought, how angry she got, how she kicked and screamed and bit, but it was all to no avail. Before she knew it, her clothes were exchanged for that of a gauzy, white robe and she was tied down.
That was when the pain started. She could not see her parents of the followers that decided to help them out in this process, but she could feel it. She saw the gleaming of the blades, the smooth, oiled leather of the whips, and all Agnes could do was close her eyes and pray that it was not real. Even until the very millisecond before she felt the first pain, she hoped it was all a figment of her imagination.
Then that’s when the chanted started. The prayers for her soul, the attempts to cast out whatever “demon” that dwelled within her. Her mother kept calling it Pestilence and demanded over and over again for it to leave the soul of her “sweet Agnes”. But it was all a crock…and Agnes knew it.
She felt no different…her parents were liars, that was the only thing they could be. They were not righteous, they were not serving god, they were villains who wanted nothing more than to torture all those that were different than what they believed was correct. But it was too late for Agnes to finally realize this about them. She was their victim and as much as she pleaded and screamed for them to stop…the worst was yet to come.
“Free this youth from damnation… Let her soul be free once more… Banish the demon within her heart… Loosen the devil’s grip upon her… Out…Out…Out… We cast you out… Sear the flesh… Burn the demon out…!”
It was the chanting that woke up her this time. The fevered chanting by a multitude of voices that sounded more like the crashing of ocean waves to her sensitive ears rather than the something lyrical. The words were sang with perfect sync, sounding like it was something a mental patient would sing in order to keep the moon from crashing into the earth. It was just that crazy and the words blended in so well with each other one that no real sense could be made. All Agnes knew was that it was definitely her parents’ followers. They were all praying for her soul…they were all attempting to exorcise her.
Agnes, eyes weak and body wracked with pain, gently lifted her head as she attempted to look around her surroundings. She could tell that the chanting followers were somewhere behind her, somewhere out of her line of vision. But other than that, she could make out nothing else in the extremely dark room. The only light she could see was a faint, flicker red glow, but what could that be? They didn’t have a fireplace…
…and why was it so hot?
Her dry, pink tongue licked out to brush across her chapped lips. Still too tired and wanting to drift off to sleep to escape the pain that radiated out from every part of her body, Agnes lowered her head and looked down. When she did, she saw a sight that made her blood freeze up.
Situated, not far in front of her, was a golden brazier etched with holy images. It looked like a beautiful piece of work, one that any antique dealer would have loved to have had in their collection. It was old but polished and kept looking as new as possible. The terrible fact was that it still worked. Within the large cup, there was a mass of red hot coals that glowed ominously. They glared at her like a nest of angry red eyes peering through the dark. Heated from beneath by a bellowing fire, the glowed fiercely and it was enough to make the teen cry. Situated within those coals was a long, thin iron rod, the head buried deep in the flaming rocks.
What the hell was it?
“M-M-Mom...?” she asked dryly. “Mommy?”
Situated on either side of the brazier were the robed forms of her parents. They knelt, their eyes staring into the flaming red coals of the brazier as they their lips slightly prayed. Agnes could not hear them over the chanting of the rest of the followers. Their voices were invisible, like wind as they sat staring at the angry red eyes in the large golden vessel. Agnes attempted to call out, to get their attention, but her weak voice barely produced an audible squeak. Instead she remained still, wishing, willing herself to vanish, to disappear, even to die to escape this. Sweat rolled down every inch of her body and yet she felt cold instead. This had to be a nightmare…it had to…
It was then that her mother stood up, gently placed a cloth in her hand and grabbed the iron rod sticking into the flames. A step back and the rod was removed. It was only then, as Agnes stared at the glowing, red hot shape of a cross on its head that she realized to her terror that it was a brand. Agnes tears went unheard as her mother slowly turned to face her, the same invisible prayers on her lips as she took ritualized steps towards the tied down teen.
“Mom? Mommy, please!”
But her cries when unheard as she stared at her craze eyed mother, step closer and closer…the red hot brand not even shaking in her hand…
The crying, the cringing, it was all too much for Agnes to take anymore. As she lay in her bed, gasping, she clawed at her pillows, unable to stand the sight, smell or feeling of her own room anymore. She her eyes tightly closed. This was no simple nightmare anymore, she was living it.
Meekly she lay curled up in her bed, covers pulled up to her nose as she cried and cried, sure that she had to be nearly dehydrated of all tears by now. Her pillows were wet, her blankets were wet, but body was painfully dry. So dry in fact that each scrape of the blanket felt like sandpaper against her skin. Absolutely everything was still hurting, probably because every nerve fiber in her being was now completely on fire. After her ordeal, everything was entirely too sensitive. And with good reason.
For several hours she had been tortured by means that were so hazy she could barely remember them. The worst thing of all though, was that it was her parents who had encouraged it. They stepped back, prayed for Agnes but urged their followers to continue despite her cries and protests. Agnes had to remain there, tied down as she listened to their obsessive chanting and felt each twinge and lash of pain as it coursed throughout her entire body. At one point she remembered regurgitating the contents of her empty stomach, but passed out soon after. Yet…the worst would come in the form of a hot, glowing brand.
Across the young teen’s midsection, all she could feel was an indescribable pain. Her parents’ followers, after the branding in an attempt to burn out the “devil” from her soul, had wrapped gauze haphazardly around the wound. But that did absolutely nothing for the pain. As each second ticked away, it felt just as horrible as when her mother, her very MOTHER, pressed that hot crucifix shaped brand against her stomach.
The smell, the sensation, all of it as too much for Agnes to comprehend. The last thing she remembered as screaming as her whole body felt as if it was on fire, then she passed out once again.
She awoke to the feeling of water being poured in her throat. At first was it painful since her mouth was so dry but gradually it began to taste like nirvana. She did not know who it was that fed her the cool water but it felt so good on her throat. Unfortunately that was the last good feeling she would get from that place. Before she knew it, she was lifted up and the pain that came from being jostled so harshly caused her to whimper like a wounded dog. Still though, she would not open her eyes. She knew she would not be able to stand the sight if it was her parents that were carrying her up after they had treated her so badly.
After that though, all she could do was cry herself to sleep for another few hours. Upon awakening was when the anger, the sadness and the pain had set in permanently. She replayed everything she could remember and all it achieved was making her upset as possible. Her parents, her very parents were responsible for the tortures she endured that night. Her parents were the reason that every inch of her body felt like it was on fire. It was all because of them! And just because they did not understand what she was.
Growling to herself, Agnes suddenly seized her pillow and hurled it as hard as she could against the locked door of her bedroom. It bounced harmlessly off, but it was still enough to alarm whoever it was on the other side of the door. She could see their shadow beneath the crack, shifting left and right nervously before finally remaining still again. It was not until then that Agnes once more heard the prayers and chanting.
“T-They’re…still praying?” she snarled. “S-Still think…doing…God’s work?”
Her hands balled up into tight fists as she glared at the door, practically burning holes into the wooden frame. It was at this moment, for the first time in her life, that she had wished someone dead. Whether that was her fear, her anger, or the pain talking, she did not know. But she knew what she felt. She wanted someone dead. And she wished, she wished she could start with them...
Sniffling, Agnes' sadness suddenly crushed her down deeper than she could imagine. Instantly she collapsed back onto her own bed as she sat there, crying, trying to ignore the pain in her stomach every time she moved.
It was only then, through her weariness that she heard the faint, familiar buzzing. Looking around her room weakly, she spied as several flies began to fly close to her from their spots on the walls. Roaches skittered across the floor towards her and she could even see a wasp or two as the clumsily flew through the room. Upon coming closer to her though, it was as if her body instinctively reacted. Her chest buzzed but in her weakened state the buzzing was so low and inaudible that Agnes practically could not hear it. Maybe that was why they did not spew out of her when she was downstairs…because they were weak too.
Gasping, Agnes forced herself to stand once more as she turned to gaze at the various vermin that flew or attempted to crawl on her. The sensation still felt weird, but she did not try to squash them this time. Instead, all they did was prove even further that were parents were complete and utter crackpots. Even after that horrible exorcism she had to endure, these insects were still around…and they weren’t going anywhere.
Shakily she looked down at her trembling hand and then back to the locked door to her room. How long before they found out it did not work? How long before they attempt to come in here again and drag her out? How long before they attempt another exorcism but make it even worse? There was no way she could survive that again. She knew that…she barely felt alive now.
Her parents would never let her go.
With a shake of her head, Agnes knew she could not stay. A glance to her window and an immediate sense of fear began to well up in her chest. She had never done something like this. She couldn’t even imagine it! But she knew the alternative, which would be staying, was completely out of the question. She couldn’t stay here…not anymore. She needed to leave now before she ended up dead.
Resolutely, but still was some fear, Agnes crept over to a duffle bag for gym class and immediately began to empty its contents on the bed. As she did, she went around the room and began to gather whatever essentials happened to be around: some clothing, a few personal affects, but most of all, her violin. She was definitely not going to leave that behind. Making sure she snapped it closed into its case, she slipped it in with her spare clothing. She did not have long, she knew that. It was only be a matter of time before–
Knock! KNOCK!
Agnes froze as she turned to the door. Fear fueling her now, Agnes grabbed the last that she could and shoved them into her bag. As she winced and cringed while attempting to slip on her clothes, she could hear more rushed voices on the outside. There was no more time to dally. She had to leave and she had to leave now. She tossed the last of what she needed and rushed over to her single window that overlooked her neighborhood. She then slipped the dufflebag over her shoulders and winced as she shoved open her window. The cool air of the day rushed in and attempted to tickle the skin of her bare face, but it only succeeded in causing a sting to the tears that welled up at the corners of her eyes.
KNOCK! KNOCK!! KNOCK!!![/b]
One glance over her shoulder and, as she heard the door being unlocked, Agnes made for the window. She winced and cried out as she started to climb, aggravating the wound burned into her stomach. But she did not stop, she could not. Instead she climbed she felt herself halfway out the window, then fully. Stepping out onto the small ledge, Agnes carefully began to make her way down just as the door to her room slammed open.
Gasping and crying Agnes rushed to the edge and gently lowered herself off the ledge. With a wince and grunt, she let go…and landed on her two feet on the drive way. Her fear seized her heart and caused an extreme amount of flight to settle in. Choosing one direction, away from her house, Agnes ran. Despite having only a little water in her stomach, no food, and wracked with pain, she ran. She ran and she ran until she felt as if she would collapse. Then…she kept running…
…straight for the towering monoliths of the city. There…there she would be able to vanish. There she could melt away…and her parents would never find her again. No one would.
There were so many papers on the desk. And each of them were covered, front and back, in tiny cursive words. They were splayed out, like the sheets of a fan, haphazard and across the desk with no real rhyme or reason to them. There were not even page numbers but the writer knew exactly what order they were supposed to go in. She had to know since they were her story, after all. Each page depicted one of the saddest stories her sad tale of pain and suffering. Even just the process of writing them had stirred up so many emotions in Agnes that tear stains could be seen dotting the pages randomly. It was not so much a loss of her past, it was the fact that she was finally forcing herself to live through it again. She had promised herself so long ago that she never would…but she had to now.
Agnes Nicholas, sniffled as she looked down at the final page she wrote. Her hands, shaking as she clutched onto the pen for dear life, ignoring the blindly pain that shot through her hand, she carefully added the last period. A gasp of sadness and she finally allowed the pen to drop onto the desk. It fell heavy, but not loud enough to wake Gina, and began to roll towards the edge. But Agnes did nothing to stop it from falling to the carpeted floor. Instead, she could only sit there in silence.
She gazed at the pages, so many of them handwritten that depicted her story and she could only shake her head. How could her parents have done that to her? How could they have done that to their own flesh and blood? That question had been following her for months, ever since she fled that house and she was no closer to an answer. Living on the streets she saw some of the worst sides of humanity but still, none of it compared to the betrayal that she experienced in that house. The worst of it was that fact that she actually…loved her parents. She felt a deep understanding for them, she respected them, she…trusted them. And it was all thrown back into her face.
In the end, after it was revealed that she was a mutant, they treated her as if she were any other soul in need of redemption. They did not hold back, they did not even attempt to understand. At that moment, all Agnes was was another demon possessed soul that needed to be cleansed. Like a growth that needed to be burned off.
She was only a cancer to them.
Sniffling, Agnes stifled another cry as she stared at those loose pages for the longest time before she finally reached out and collected them into a single stack. Instinctively, she put them in order, patted down the pages so that they looked nice and neat and proceeded to fold them in half. For a moment she considered simply cutting the pages up and throwing it to the wind. It would have been cathartic but it would serve no purpose. She might need them for later. So, with that in mind, she plucked out one of her books from the desk and slid the folded pages inside. Gently she reclosed the book and returned it to its spot while she stood from her seat.
A glance across the room to Gina and Agnes smiled a bit briefly. The young mutant was still soundly sleeping. She was glad she did not wake her up. Too many people knew of her story as it is, and it is simply better that Gina know none of it. She wanted her to keep her optimistic view on life. These days, people give in to bitterness much too easily. Some people had to hold on.
Moving across the room, Agnes returned to her own bed once more and curled up underneath the covers. With her head resting on the pillow she gently reached underneath her night shirt and touched the scars that were embedded upon her flesh. They would be there the rest of her life, they would forever remind her about what happened to her the rest of her life. But she could not let it define her anymore. If she did, then her parents would always have power over her. That simply could not be allowed.
Slowly her eyes drifted closed as she began to fall deeper and deeper into sleepiness. Letting her mind fall back, she finally began to dream of a future which she had never considered before; a future where she could be happy.
