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.
Agent Zero walked through the dark alleys of New York, the overcast clouds looming overhead as it slightly drizzled down, there was a bit of a wind but nothing more then a ripple through his black leather overcoat. He continued walking until he finally found what he was looking for, a dark alley, in a slum of sorts, this was just the location he was looking for.
No officers should see this in this part of town, so I shouldn't attract any unwanted attentionHe thought to himself as he looked around the desolate alley with a slightly morose look in his eye
He ripped a medium sized piece of paper out of his overcoat and quickly taped it to a dank wall in the alley corner. He gave the flyer one more look over before moving to the back of the alley in hopes someone would respond.
The flier read "Professional assassin for hire, will take any job and work for any organization, over 20 years experience as soldier and experienced in many different positions, prices vary by job and permanent employment is possible, if interested please ask for get information from my secretary in the back of the alley
Obviously he wasn't the secretary, but he wanted to make sure that whoever requested his service was worth his time and effort, as well as ensure that he could see his employers face in the case that he would ever need to find him again
Now its just a matter of waiting for the right person to come by, hopefully this won't take too long but from what i've heard of this city and its people, i should hope that to many people don't applyHe thought to himself as he waitied in the back of the alley with his sunglasses on and his black fedora down
It was a lazy day. Maya had been visiting friends in a less than reputable part of town, but after lunch was when they put the baby down for a nap. Maya wasn't the best at screaming babies so she had taken her reprieve on the fire escape despite the drizzle. She had brought a book to pass the time, but a rather curious and interesting thing happened instead: a man in a black leather trench put up a flier and then walked to the end of the alley. Maya knew this wasn't the best part of town, but somebody dressed like that was certainly up to no good.
Maya focused on the flier, encouraging the subtle breeze to gust and pluck the flier from its taped place on the wall. It would look like a normal enough occurrence, the breezes were out today. She figured she'd bother this hooligan a bit for taping things to the wall. It would pass the time better than reading her book.
Zero quickly moved as he saw his flyer become unattached by the sudden gust of wind, he snatched it off the ground and pulled one of many knives out of a holister in his trench coat, this time lodging the knife into the weak, cracked alleyway, through the flyer This should hold you pretty good He thought to himself as he looked around before walking back to the alley, this time at an angle to wear he could watch the flyer with the reflective edge of another knife he had drawn from his jacket
Posted by dragonking on Jun 11, 2008 5:22:59 GMT -6
Guest
Hades was walking down the street on that sunny day tryng out a new disguise for comfort t more than anything else, he had dark skin this time instead of his usual lighter tone, and he had hair long slightly curly hair, not thick but enough to slightly drape over the face. In fact Hades was rather proud of the new hair, he had made under the sun the wig would draw the sweat from his scalp through the wig to make it look even more realistic, plus it eased the itchy sensation that usually accompanies wig wearing. But today it was drizzly, and that made some strands of his hair stick together, not that it bothered him though, he just kept on.
He was strolling pas an alley when he saw the flyer, saw it lift off in the breeze. That was not too unusual, he still had no trouble reading it while it flittered down.
“Professional assassin for hire, will take any job and work for any organization, over 20 years experience as soldier and experienced in many different positions, prices vary by job and permanent employment is possible, if interested please ask for get information from my secretary in the back of the alley”
*Hmm wonder what this person is like* He pulled out his phone as if to make a call, when he saw someone with sunglasses re-pin the poster to the wall with an knife. He knew how to handle a knife rather well. Hades had taken a few pictures while walking past due to the camera lens being on the side of his phone rather than on the back. He walked on.
Later he entered one of the many office buildings and took the elevator to the bottom floor. There after passing through a few guard’s quarters came to a wall. He waved his hand over it and it slid noiselessly open, allowing him admittance to the New York branch of Orcus Technologies Ltd.
Orcus was a company which Hades did not officially own on paper, but was his anyway, it was a not publically know but highly reputable technology review company used mostly by the military and advanced research and development groups to review projects when they were applying for funding. A good recommendation from Orcus tech or what ever front they used for that client went a big way in asking for funding for a new research project.
Anyhow, Hades strolled to his desk in a private room and hung his black leather biking jacket on the hangar and powered up his computer, soon he was using the high definition pictures to scan all known databases for nationality and ex soldiers who had served for the past twenty years, the program then matched the body shape and profile against all remaining subjects. Hades left it running and left the office locking the door after him. The computer could now only be accessed by his phone or physically after passing a DNA check. On his way out he picked a shriken shaped object from a drawer and put it in his pocket.
Hades meandered back to the alley way, near to the garage where he had parked his bike; he arrived there 20 minutes after he left it. By that time he had a rough background of the 10 or so possible identities of this “assassin for hire”. Out came the phone and for the next ten minutes as Bremen (Hades, although almost nobody know him by the name Bremen) chatted to a guy called Joe about football, of how there were a few promising new players in the field, the topic of conversation then moved onto stocks of how prices were and how one needed experience to know how to earn your living from the stock market, after that he hung up.
Hades had just talked with a recruiter in the elite assassin’s guild, and they were interested in this person. The guild were never mentioned in the headlines, there were the type of people that governments turned to when there was a job that they did not want even remotely connected to them.
As Hades walked by the alley way to get to his bike, his wrist seemed to twitch once as he passed the poster and after he left, the dull red shriken device was pinning the bottom of the flyer to the wall. After that he calmly got on his bike and drove off, to merge into the traffic.
The device was actually a holographic communication device that would scan the area for bugs and only open and activate in a place where no other people were around then activate.
Hades drove away and continued his day, he was patient, very patient.
Zero heard as someone sped away on a motorcycle, and walked back over to make sure his note hadn't been removed by some bored troublemaker, to his surprise a red shuriken shaped device sat lodged in the bottom of the paper, further pinning it to the wall, Zero removed the device from the paper and returned to the back of the alley to examine it further
What could this object be, some form of calling card, or is is it something more elaborate
Zero continued examining it as he flipped the shuriken shaped device over and noticed a small button on the bottom of the device, he pressed the bottom and the moment he did that a large sweeping red beam shot from the optical of it in a 360 degree angle covering all around him
What the hell is going on here
He thought to himself as the optical beam shot back into the object and caused it to fall to the ground and a hologram appeared from it
Now this is getting alot more interesting, lets see where this goes before i resign myself to give up on this device
Posted by dragonking on Jun 11, 2008 6:04:59 GMT -6
Guest
What appeared on screen was a weird symbol, then a disembodied voice. “ Greetings Agent Zero, we of the elite assassins guild have noted your arrival in this city, we offer you a series of tasks, depending on how you complete them we may offer you employment as well as payment. Here is the first task. I am sure you know about the Mutant Registration Bill, and the resulting camp for the mutants, your first task it a test of basic skills.
There is rumoured to be the possibility of unrest in the camps, your task is to get near to the camp and protect as many mutants as you can without revealing yourself or your identity. You will be supplied with a L96A1 Sniper Rifle and ammunition unless you have your own. While there gather as much information as you can and then report back to this number. You may use any means necessary to complete your objectives.”
A number appeared on screen.
“ To pickup your equipment go to the collection office and look for the key code identification machine, swipe this device through it and collect your kit. You have 24 hours to collect your kit after which this device will implode. Report back in 52 hours, otherwise your gear will be collected and you will have failed. Guild out.”
Posted by Cheshire on Jun 11, 2008 12:05:15 GMT -6
Mutant God
3,233
18
Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
Calley was away from the Lab for reasons entirely his own and having nothing to do with the fact that the Canteen workers had been refusing to feed him in his tiger form. Ahem.
Calley was currently in the form of a large orange-and-ginger stripped tom cat, with deep blue eyes. The red leather collar around his neck would read Sinatra, should anyone care to look. He doubted anyone would, seeing as how large orange-and-ginger stripped tom cats on drizzly days did not precisely have welcome mats on their soggy, spiked fur. Sinatra the cat looked a bit like he'd lost a fight with a washing machine.
It was all good, though. He was currently curled up in a warm ball of fluff on a fire escape, looking down at a girl on the landing below him and an alleyway below that. His undercoat was still perfectly dry, and he wasn't exactly a house cat by nature. Granted that he was more of a bipedal by nature, strictly speaking, but two years of living on the New York streets as a stray cat had left him quite comfortable in most weather. Particularly early Spring weather, after the bitter white drifts had melted, and when all the nice juicy New York critters were spawning nice juicy slow-moving babies. The large orange-and-ginger stripped tom was curled around his belly, which was pleasantly plump with what had formerly been a family of Mourning Doves. Ah, Mourning Doves. A rare treat in a city overrun with pigeons. About one adult and three nestlings rarer now, he dared say.
The cat known as Sinatra, despite his loss to that washing machine, was a pure ball of contentment. He was hanging out on the fire escape for no particular reason--he just didn't want to head back to the Labs yet. They were boring and stuffy and full of people he already knew. He didn't expect the alleyway to be a very exciting place, and the girl with the book wasn't too promising either, but--
Hello, random man attaching fliers to walls. And re-attaching them with knives. Woah. The guy had li'l ol' Sinatra's blue-eyed attention, that was for sure. And the book reader's attention, too, it seemed. She was probably reconsidering her choice of reading spots. He certainly would be, in her shoes. The large orange-and-ginger stripped tom didn't actually look all that interested. It blinked down at the scene below it, then delicately yawned, and resettled its head against its shoulders. It was curled up in turkey pose, for those familiar with cat yoga. It sniffed lightly. There had been a recent gust of air up to the fire escape, and it carried with it the scent of the man below, along with rotting things and crawling things and many many tasty things. But focusing on the man: he wasn't anyone Calley had ever smelled before.
Not like the guy who walked by next on his lovely li'l cell. Calley caught his whiff. His look was unfamiliar, but that wasn't surprising; Calley had only ever smelled him around the Labs, never seen him. The smell was persistent though, and from the actual lab areas. One of Doctor Ingram's unfortunate lackeys? The cat began to groom his back, his blue gaze on the street below, but not looking particularly concerned. No, probably not a lackey. Looked like he had too much of a spine to take orders all day from that man. Must be in a different department.
Calley made nothing of it until twenty minutes later, when the guy came back. The cat's ear flicked in time with the man's wrist twitch. Interesting little throwing-star trick. He'd listened to the man's phone conversation, of course. The odd little emphasis on some words hadn't escaped him, but he didn't exactly care about football, so meh. Given that distinctly non-run-of-the-mill action just then, though, Calley shoved that conversation back to the clutter and set a good portion of his mind, Slate included, on checking it over. Just in case. The cat stood, and stretched luxuriously, arching its back to an almost impossible angle. He couldn't read the flier from up here, and he didn't exactly want to risk shifting his cat eyes with hawk eyes. He'd been trying that a bit lately. It... was going about as well as the time he'd tried shifting his human sinuses for cat sinuses. In a word: @$#%! He lightly dropped down onto the lower level of the fire escape, his velvet paws making a noise about as loud as the drops of drizzle on the metal. He gave a courteous sniff and a friendly headbutt to the knee of the book reader, before sitting down next to her. From here, with a bit of staring, he could read it.
"Professional assassin for hire, will take any job and work for any organization, over 20 years experience as soldier and experienced in many different positions, prices vary by job and permanent employment is possible, if interested please ask for get information from my secretary in the back of the alley"
He could read it, but he had a hard time believing it wasn't a joke. What kind of assassin advertised in an alleyway in the wrong side of town? Not the kind going for high pay, he'd wager. And definitely not the kind that was James Bond sleek. The large orange-and-ginger stripped tom licked a paw, and started grooming its whiskers. Its esteem for the super-secret awesome world of assassins had taken a devastating blow today; it was going to take a few spy novels to raise his spirits again. In fact, it was probably about time to go back to the Labs, anyway--
And then the throwing star hit the ground, and things got suitably interesting again. The cat whose collar named him Sinatra put his head enticingly close to the girl's hand, offering her the privilege of petting his slightly soggy self as his gaze took in the scene below with all the disinterest a cat could muster.
The knife didn't scare her, what frightened her was the little red thing that the man was so intensely interested in. Maya had coerced a little breeze her way to help her catch a few of the words... what she heard disturbed her greatly.
“ ------ elite assassins ------------- we offer you a series ---------- employment as well as ----------- I am sure -------- Registration Bill, and the resulting camp for the mu----------- skills.
--------------- task is to get near to ----------------- revealing yourself o------------- with a L96A1 Sniper Rifle and amm--------------- information as you can ---------------------- any means necessary --------.”
More sensitive ears wold have caught all of it, but she didn't want to hear anymore anyway. Maya was brought out of her reverie by a soft, whiskery bump on the knee. Maya shifted her weight to sit on her skirt, realizing that she may be flashing the lower levels since she had a steady stream or airflow in her direction. She looked at the cat... Sinatra, she read. He was awfully soggy. She considered blow drying him, but she figured that would only make him skitter away. The real way to a cat's heart was to ignore the hell out of it. She left her hand temptingly close to the animal's head, but not touching. Her attention was more focused on the man in the trench anyway.
She wondered if the assassin would leave now that he apparently had places to go and people to kill. He was still reading something on the red thing. While he was turned away she focused again on the paper. She brought the breeze from a different angle, gusting upward so as to not attract attention from the man and to tear the flier from it's purchase from it's weakest point. It blew up toward Maya and the kitty, but she didn't want to touch the thing- only to see it. It completely confirmed her fears. Assassin for hire. What kind of sick joke was all of this? Her blood ran cold in her veins as the paper drifted lazily onto the soggy ground again.
"You're in the wrong part of town, Sinatra..." She spoke softly - for Sinatra's ears only, "you an' me both."
Zero picked up the red transmitter as soon as the image had been finished playing, he then threw it into the air and shot it into pieces with a pistol he quickly drew from his jacket pocket, he then re-holstered the weapon and took one last sweep look around to make sure that no one saw what had taken place in the alley.
He noticed that his flyer had blown off of the knife but didn't think much off it at the time, he walked over and dislodged the knife from the wall and re-holstered it into his jacket holster, he then turned as he was leaving the alley to see a dog and what looked like an awe struck women, he then noticed that the flyer although not directly next to them was within yards of their position
Fuck just what i need, witnesses, why do the innocent always have to suffer.
He thought to himself as he drew a pistol blindingly quick from his jacket yet again and fired 4 rounds directly at her 1 to her stomach 1 to her left thigh and one to her right shoulder and one aimed at the center of her forehead, he then re-holstered the weapon as fast as he had drawn in and took off down the street towards the towards the subway as to get him closer to the mutant camps
Another job well done Emilio, another innocent killed carelessly, lets hope she survives.
He drew a pistol blindingly quick from his jacket. Awestruck? He hadn't seen awestruck until he saw how large her eyes got when she saw his pistol.
"Whoa!" She put up her hands reflexively, though they weren't necessary. A grand gust of wind that rattled every window blasted at the bullets, another unnecessary reaction, though it had the effect to keep said bullets from shattering her friends' window. 4 bullets implanted themselves into the wooden window frame and brick slightly to the side and behind her. Her flesh did not stop them. She had become incorporeal as fast as she had inhaled in shock -- it was a natural reaction for her, and the only one that was saving her life at the moment.
Unfortunately, incorporeal creatures also can't sit on metal grated fire escapes. She slid through a few diamond-shaped grates grasping futilely at things as she passed until she got her bearings. She often forgot that gravity did not have the same effect on her in this form. She was often too used to the idea of normalcy. She considered shouting after the man or "haunting" him, but she'd rather not solicit more bullets or the stares of humans. She settled for sticking out her tongue, which was rather transparent and lost most of its effect anyway since Mr. Assassin seemed long gone.
Posted by Cheshire on Jun 11, 2008 22:01:36 GMT -6
Mutant God
3,233
18
Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
The wind was behaving itself beautifully today. Calley's ears easily caught every word out of the little red throwing-star thing. Thanks to its conveniently high-tech holographic display, he even caught a backwards image of the strange little super-secret Elite Assassin Guild symbol, and their phone number. Heh. That was funny, just on the principle of the thing: if he was ever feeling bored and suicidal, he knew just who to crank call.
...But on a more important note: what was this girl doing? The orange-and-ginger stripped tom's ears flicked back towards her, annoyed by the distinct lack of petting. As soon as he realized what he was doing, he forced them forwards again. His tail tip twitched. Twi... tched. His whiskers sprang forward, then flattened against his cheeks. Her hand was close. He could feel the heat of it, like a tantalizing whisper of what should be going on. The man started walking out of the alleyway, but the tom's head didn't turn to follow him. That would involve looking at the girl. The infuriatingly dense girl. Here he was, granting her with the right to touch him, and there she sat, doing what? What?
The cat's head turned compulsively towards the girl, then swung back to a determined front-and-center pose with ears laid flat back. Pfft. She was merely levitating papers with breezes. That was wh--
--The tom's head jerked back to look at the white-haired girl, ears pricked forward and whiskers fanned. Well. That explained how nicely the air currents had been behaving.
~ "You're in the wrong part of town, Sinatra... you an' me both."
Uh-huh, Calley couldn't help but agree, as he saw the man down below spot them.
What happened next happened quickly, though not as quickly as Calley had gotten used to in recent months. He'd been dealing with Kaz and Hunter and Speed. This guy was fast... but it was human fast. By comparison, that made it almost slow behind his deep blue eyes. Four shots. He could even see the subtle shifts to the gun barrel each time; four shots, and not aimed at the same place. Calley only had time to fold his ears down flat and hold himself very still as the bullets hit the sudden whirlwind on the fire escape, and collided with the wall behind the girl. All four of them. And then the girl... was on the ground, in the alleyway.
The tom cat whose collar named him Sinatra was a little fuzzy on what had just happened, there. Of one thing he was fairly certain: he'd like to get away from the alarmingly close bullets now, thank you. Even if they weren't aimed at his own innocuously furry self. Calley was no dog. Not in body or mind. He didn't particularly feel any tug of loyalty towards the woman. But the quickest way to The Hell Away From Here was down through the alley, and she was on the way, so... he might as well make sure she was all right, while he was padding past. And his nose and eyes were telling him that the Scary Apparently-Not-A-Joke Assassin Man's Secretary was gone. His ears were still ringing a bit too much to confirm that, which made him feel oddly paralyzed to move. He hadn't realized how much he trusted his ears, in this form. With thoroughly cautious steps--and a fully-foofed coat of fur, despite the drizzle--the large orange-and-ginger stripped tom paced to the edge of the fire escape, and lightly dropped to the alleyway floor. He looked towards the alleyway's foreboding entrance. Still no sign of the Trigger-Happy So-Called Secretary. He looked back the white-haired girl. Who was down, but... sticking out her tongue. He didn't smell blood. In fact, he didn't smell much at all. ((ooc: Assuming your scent gets a bit incorporeal as well; correct me if I'm wrong!)) The cat known as Sinatra flattened his ears against his head. Then slowly, very slowly, he padded with intently narrow-eyed determination towards the girl. He paused at her side... and scratched a paw through her.
Murrrrrr, the large tom unhappily voiced, low in his throat. All was not well in the natural world, when a cat couldn't scratch its stationary target.
Ghost looked down a bit exasperatedly as the kitty tried to take a swipe at her. She thought about kicking through it, but that just wasn't nice. Instead she just sighed. Today just wasn't her day. She wondered if her friends were shell shocked or if their neighbors, who she noticed peeking though the windows, would tell on her. "Cat, please, cease and desist." She gave a tragic sigh.
"Apparently it's not my day." She stopped and took a shaky breath for herself. Slowly she solidified. Somehow it was easier to become like air and more difficult for her to become normal again. She felt a bit cold, but it was better than dead.
"Sorry, kitty. Would you believe it's my first time being shot at?" She laughed and there was a hint of panic there. She wasn't sure why she was talking to a cat, but it seemed better than going back into the building to face whoever was waiting. She didn't exactly want to stick around in a dark alley on the wrong side of town either. Being new to town sucked because she had not established safe place. Few friends... fewer now, probably.
Posted by dragonking on Jun 12, 2008 5:17:51 GMT -6
Guest
(OCC can i point out that if calley's collar has a live recording mic that transmits to somewhere else the device MAY JUST HAVE picked it up! but nice one ghost for the wind thingy and for Calley's cat ears, did not think of that one.)
Far away, although in direct line of sight, a compact telescopic camera recorded all that went on. From now on, Zero would be watched, as would the girl and the cat, the camera briefly zoomed in on the collar, and took a snapshot of the girl, then went back to its original setting, which was as a CCTV except for when it got hijacked by “people”
Posted by Cheshire on Jun 12, 2008 12:51:05 GMT -6
Mutant God
3,233
18
Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
((ooc: As a point of fact, actually, it was established IC months ago during Calley's First Mission that his collar microphone has much better hearing than his ears in cat form. You have your gadgets, Hades, and kitty's got his: j00 got recorded, yo. And you gotta admit, man: covert, that was not. ))
~ "Cat, please, cease and desist."
The large tom murrred again, but tucked its paws neatly under itself. Its eyes stayed narrowed, though, and its tail tip began to slowly curl... and uncurl.... and curl.
~ "Apparently it's not my day. ...Sorry, kitty. Would you believe it's my first time being shot at?"
His ears swiveled behind, to the front, to the sides, out that alleyway mouth; he was listening to her, but with the buzzing dying down in his ears, he had much more important things to be listening for. A mutant she was, but a homicidal guy with a gun that had been. A cat's got to have his priorities. He could hear the footsteps of the Assassin-Secretary, either running or close to it, and nearly at the edge of his hearing limit. Moving further away. That was just perfect, really. The man from the Labs was gone, as well. The soothing sounds of general New York traffic filled his senses before long. Angry cabbies proving that the shortest unit of time was the time between when a light changed and when they sounded their horn, feet wearing all types of shoes clopping with typical bipedal lack-of-grace along broad concrete sidewalks, folks on cell phones and exhaust pipes backfiring and the whispery judgments of neighbors staring out windows into an alleyway.
As far as a cat needed to be concerned: all was well again.
Calley swiveled his ears back towards the mutant. The mutant he'd never met before, or even smelled before. In-ter-est-ing. She seemed to be solid again. He tested it by setting his forepaws on her thigh, and leaning his weight down. Yep. Solid. And since he was already half-way there... the large orange-and-ginger stripped tom cat craned up his neck towards the girl's face, his head weaving just the slightest bit up and down as he touched his whiskers to her chin. Solid up here, too. Pretty smell, if a little shaken. Good face. Cute hair cut. Natural color, or dyed? No smell of fresh dye, which would mean she'd have roots if it wasn't natural; he wasn't exactly at the right angle to check on that, though. The cat's deep blue eyes stared curiously at this falling-through-solid-metal woman, as his dark pink nose and white whiskers twitched.
She looked down at the cat as it put its paws on her leg. She watched with equal curiosity as it stretched its full length to get a better look at her face. It wasn't wholly unnatural for a cat to be so friendly, but it seemed strange for this animal to have taken a liking to her so quickly. 'It must be the old ignore the soggy kitty tactic at work,' Maya decided. Sinatra was looking at her with piercing, blue cat eyes and tickling her chin and cheeks with his whiskers as he sniffed.
She couldn't help but laugh. If she had ever thought about stealing something in her life, now she thought about stealing this animal. Would the consequences be so bad if she grabbed the soggy tom cat and ran?
"Oh, come on!" Maya waved at the whiskers that were tickling her face and gave the waterlogged cat a good scratch on the chin and behind the ear. She was fast becoming damp crouching in the light drizzle, but it was comforting to have someone, even if it was a cat, be friendly and not ask her about her life plan or criticize her very existence.
Somewhere in the distance, above the din of foot traffic and honks, a police siren wailed. Maya stiffened. Were they responding to the gunshots? Would they think she was the asassin's secretary mentioned on the flier? Would they figure she was a mutant? She was pretty sure that it was a crime to flee the scene, but if the sirens got too close she was formulating plans to bolt.
))