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.
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Jorge
One little pill. It gave a man the most absolute power that they would ever get to experience in the world. Though it was not something that should be taken lightly, Gerard Foodie, was not scared. Climbing out of his old, beaten down, blue Gremlin, the bank teller took one shaky breath as he looked across the street at the First National Bank that he had spent 10 years of his life slaving away in. It was another work day, but he had special plans for this day. Oh yes, very special plans indeed…
But not yet. He patted the pocket of his cheap, navy blue suit; inside he could feel the small vial that contained the pill he would need. Lately he had been visiting the mutant bars in town, trying to show off his powers and gain a little respect. Unfortunately showing off does tend lead to unwanted attention. Rumors spread of a new mutant in town, a destructive one at that, but Gerard didn’t know all this just yet. He was just out to have some fun.
But, he couldn’t focus on that now. Swallowing his courage, Gerard crossed the not-so-busy street and slid into the bank. His heavy set frame, white-haired, balding head, earned a nod of greeting from the security guard, to which all Gerard did was respectfully nod back. He couldn’t go around and tip anyone off, could he?
At glance around the early bank patrons, Gerard moved past all of them and straight to his window where he would start his day. He just needed to make it to lunch time. That would be when he would make his move…
“ExCUSE me!” an irritated woman said as she came up to his window. “All I want it to break these quarters into pennies! Why won’t anyone help me?” She then hefted up a rather heavy looking water cooler bottle filled with quarters.
Gerard sighed. He patted the pill in his pocket. He had been itching to pop another pill since the fun he had last night. But, damn it, it was his last one and he had to wait! So, he put on his best smile…and started to count quarters…
***
Jorge sighed, looking over crime scene photos. The sheer, needless destruction was all around him. The dance club looked like it was in ruins, part of a warzone, rather than the popular club it use to be last night. Quietly he walked through the wreckage, careful to keep out of the way of the crime scene unit as they began to collect evidence. Security tapes were already being reviewed back at the office so he was merely waiting for the phone call. There had to be something on record…
Jorge looked up, eyed the people the mulled around the exterior, the cops rushing back and forth to contain the scene, paramedics hoping the help any survivors that they stumbled upon. But it was a mess. The whole thing was an absolute mess.
Eyewitnesses stated that the cause was a single man; a man who turned his whole head into a grenade. Jorge shook his head. Some of these mutant powers really were getting out of hand.
Riiiiiiiiing!
“Cervantes…” he was quick to answer his phone and turned back to the security line. He listened intently, a small bit of relief on his features as the videos that survived seemed to show the man they were after and identified him as Gerard Foodie. He narrowed his eyes as he stormed towards the line, to the undercover car that was situated behind it. “Where is he at now?”
A second later, the car door slammed shut and Jorge turned, tearing down the street for the First National Bank…
Posted by Cheshire on Oct 12, 2012 18:41:33 GMT -6
Mutant God
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Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
For Officer Cervantes, the morning started out slow enough. Detective Cassandra Elliot filled him in, while he ate his breakfast donut. Well, not so much filled him in, as let him peruse the reports on her desk while she quietly sipped her coffee. They had a companionable relationship, Cassandra and he. She reached out and scritched behind his ear; he purred.
"...You're not going to keep that window open in the winter, are you?" A passing officer asked, pausing to look dubiously between Officer Cervantes and the open window he'd jumped in through.
"You got something against my cat, Sergeant?" Said Elliot.
"Not the cat. The cold drafts—I'm a freeze baby."
"You're a fire elemental, Eddie. You'll live."
"Thanks for your concern. You know who's working the club bombing?"
"Cervantes, I think. Why?"
"I've been going through the videos we lifted last night. I got a clear photo of his perp. I'm running it through the system now—"
Officer Cervantes didn't wait around to hear who the perp was. He finished grooming the powdered sugar off his whiskers, licked the back of a paw, and took his exit from the window ledge out onto the fire escape.
He was working his own case.
A quick sprint up the fire escape brought him to the roof; a quick shift to hawk made for a quick flight back to his apartment, where another window was cracked and waiting for him. He had to be the best tenant a landlord could wish for: he always paid his rent on time, he never complained, and he barely even set foot in the place. If it wasn't for all the cat hair, he might even get his deposit back, one day.
Another shift found him discretely using a lint roller on his uniform before slipping it on. He threw a coat on over top; a black leather coat that he'd gotten off of some human hoodlums that had been trying to rough up people on Order turf. The panther man they'd run across had been very generous, and had let them off easy; not every Orderling would have. But then, it was a really nice coat.
He waited until he was out the front doors before pinning his badge on to the uniform, under the coat, but he didn't bother shifting his face to something a less recognizable; he still had a stop to make before he got down to business. Namely, the bank. Turns out that people who couldn't fly had to pay money for transportation.
Lame.
But, for the sake of justice, he stepped inside the doors of the First National Bank and stood in line like a good little citizen. He even waited behind crazy quarter lady like a patient young man who respected his elders. Even when it took two trips to the back for the poor teller to exchange them all. When she'd finally loaded her rolls of pennies into her grocery cart and wheeled them off, he stepped forward and flashed his best I'm a sympathetic member of society smile.
"Nice way to start the day, huh?" He said.
"It will get better," the teller replied.
"...Yeah. Well, I need to make a withd—"
A sweat had broken out on the teller's forehead. His gaze seemed riveted on something. Calley glanced over his shoulder, afraid that quarters-to-pennies lady was back to dispute the number of rolls she'd been given.
But Gerard's eyes weren't on the quarter lady. They were on the glint of a badge, hidden under his newest customer's jacket.
He's here for me, Gerard knew. Why else would a cop be standing in his line, playing it cool? Someone had tipped them off. Maybe those people at the bar last night. All he ever wanted was a bit of respect, a bit of recognition. It had only been fun and games. Why would they go and turn him in like this? It was discrimination, that's what it was—just because he got his powers from a pill, instead of being born with them.
Well, he wasn't going to go down without having some real fun. He'd just have to put his plans into action early.
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Jorge
>> "...Yeah. Well, I need to make a withd—"
Gerard knew that he was acting all wrong. He was sweating, fidgety, he looked completely and utterly guilty; the cop caught onto this. The man tried to take a shaky breath, he tried to look calm but not only was he anxious about the pill in his pocket, he was also worried because his plan was going to utterly fail. The only real hope he had was if he decided to take the initiative. He it played this game aggressively, not only would he be able to catch the police officer off guard but he would be able to get away with his plans of robbing the bank.
To himself, the man nodded. He was out of options. The cops pushed him to that point, so it was only appropriate that he pushed back in kind.
Eyes narrowed, he felt a coolness sweep over him. It was as if, in the act of making this decision, he was becoming someone else completely different. In a way, he wasn’t surprised. Considering what his powers were like whenever he was on M, he was someone different. It was just time to make it known to everyone.
The cop eyed him, so Gerard flashed him a cold smile.
“I’ll be happy to help you, sir,” Gerard muttered. “Just…give me a second, please. I need to take my heart medication.”
A quickly, and as subtly as he could, Gerard slipped away for the men’s room. Only once he was behind the closed door did he pull the small vial from his pocket with the lily white pill within. Sweat beading his brow, he carefully tipped the pill onto his open hand, popped it into his mouth, and turned on the faucet, greedily sucking down water. All it would take was a few seconds.
****
It was a quick drive, considering the speed that Detective Cervantes was driving, to the First National Bank. He was after Gerard Foodie, a bank teller here at this particular branch. He hoped he could get in, secure any civilians inside the building before Gerard decided to do something stupid. That last thing the man needed was a repeat of the club incident. So, slipping inside, his badge hidden on his belt, he casually walked in. First, he needed to see if the guy was even here.
A nod to the security guard, Jorge stepped in and immediately eyed the tellers that were gathered at their desks. Sadly, all Jorge had to work off of was a vague description of the individual, being an older man who looked completely out of place in a club.
Eyes drifting to teller to teller, he spied younger women, middle-aged men, older women, but so far absolutely no one looked as if they wouldn’t fit into a club. He could rule out the women, but the men had all been of a fairly good age. There was nothing suspicious about them. Where could he look?
He blinked as he passed by one of the empty teller windows and saw a young man standing there. There was nothing particularly interesting about him (except the coat that looked just a little too large and a little too cool for him). As a matter of fact, Jorge was about to look away when he caught a glint of something attached to his shirt. That familiar glare of brass…a shield…
It definitely must have been his lucky day to respond to a scene like this and run into another police officer. With his help, maybe they could get the innocent people out of here once he confirmed that Gerard was in. He, of course, was going to have to let the young officer in on the case.
Nonchalantly he strolled up, trying not to draw attention to himself. Once he arrived to the boy’s side, he got his attention with a nod.
“Detective Jorge Cervantes, MRC,” he greeted him by announcing his own name and department. “Officer, I’m going to need your help with something…”
****
Gerard smirked as he looked himself in the mirror. The large grenade that had replaced his head glinted dangerously in the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. He turned from side to side, admiring the look, the deep green object. He could feel the power humming from it and it was enough to send him smiling, licking his lips with pleasure. Controlled explosions, directed blasts, and the power the bring down a building, never had Gerard felt so absolutely powerful.
“It’s show time,” he laughed as he looked into the mirror one last time, turned on his heel, and stormed back out, his posture filled with confidence, strength, and a tinge of madness…
Posted by Cheshire on Oct 14, 2012 18:29:23 GMT -6
Mutant God
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Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
"Yeah, of course," Calley said, "take your time." And maybe take the rest of the day off, for that matter. This teller really didn't look so hot.
Calley turned around while he waited, setting his elbows casually on the counter as he made with the early morning people watching. It wasn't jam packed in the bank at this hour—did banks ever get that busy?—but there were a fair amount of people. Not so many in his line, anymore: quarter lady, and then the teller disappearing entirely, had rather effectively sent his fellow queuers off to greener counters. It was fine, though—he wasn't in any particular rush, and he liked watching people, when people weren't watching him. Especially normal people. They were so... normal. Just look at this guy coming towards him; he had one of those faces that looked familiar, like you'd seen him a million times before but had never really paid attention. Just a middle-aged man, only an inch or two taller than Calley. He kept himself in decent shape, but was letting his hair go all salt and pepper. Just a normal guy, confident enough in his aging to do it with a little dign—
He wasn't just coming towards Calley; he was coming towards Calley. He didn't just look familiar, he was—
"Detective Jorge Cervantes, MRC."
Ha. Detective Cervantes needed help, did he? He's here for me, Calley thought, in unconscious echo of the teller. The man sure did have a good poker face, though; he could see what New Guidance Counselor saw in him. Calley straightened himself up like a proper officer of this fine city's law, and gave a calm nod of greeting. Two could play this game.
"Cervantes? Go figure. I'm J... Jesus Cervantes. 19th Precinct." That was the one the MRC had worked out of, before it had grown so big; he knew that building's officers every bit as well as the ones at the new location. If Detective Cervantes was going to make a game of this, then Officer Cervantes could play it with the best. He gave the man his own poker face. "What can I help you with, Detective?"
It didn't occur to him that something might actually be wrong at the bank, until a talking grenade-head wearing the teller's clothes stepped out of the back and cleared his throat. He started out a bit too quiet, as he tried to get the attention of everyone in the bank; this was not a walking incendiary weapon used to commanding crowds. But he sure got the hang of it quick.
"Everyone, would everyone please—Ahem. Everyone down, now! This is a robbery!"
"Never mind," Calley whispered, rapidly dropping below the edge of the counter. "I think I figured it out. This have anything to do with that club bombing last night, Detective?"
So Cervantes wanted him... as an actual police officer. Oh.
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Jorge
The kid was young, probably just barely on the force out of the academy. He felt a little sorry for pulling him into such a dangerous situation but Jorge needed all the help that he could get. In the end it really should be a simple case. The man was dangerous but if they managed to isolate him, Jorge would be able to hopefully bring him in without risking the lives of a bunch of innocent people. All the kid would have to do is help remove people from the scene. It was fairly simple.
>> "Cervantes? Go figure. I'm J... Jesus Cervantes. 19th Precinct…What can I help you with, Detective?"
Jorge cocked his head to the side. Huh. Though he certainly knew that he was not the only Cervantes in the world, what were the odds? Finding another police officer, at a precinct that was so close to his own, and shared the same last name? It was just certainly a strange coincidence. Probably would have been worse if they looked alike.
(Thank goodness they were far from that.)
The older detective opened his mouth to explain the situation but he was forced to pause. Lifting his gaze and looking past the kid, he spotted what was most obviously a mutant step out through one of the back doors. A man sauntered in, a large grenade having replaced his head, and stood peering at his surroundings. He seemed stumped for a moment as to what to do, his voice lost in the din of the banker goers. But, driven by frustration, his voice rang out…
>> "Everyone, would everyone please—Ahem. Everyone down, now! This is a robbery!"
F***.
>> "Never mind…I think I figured it out. This have anything to do with that club bombing last night, Detective?"
“You wouldn’t be too far off the mark,” Jorge admitted.
People screamed and held up their hands defenseless. Those that tried to run were met with a rude awakened when, Gerard shot out an open palm and set off a series of mini-explosions near the front doors, effectively blackening and pox-marking the marble tiles. Gerard laughed hysterically as people whimpered, cried, and fell to the ground in fright. Jorge and his younger doppelganger were thankfully still hidden by the teller window. Hopefully they could get a second to come up with a plan.
“We have to get these people out of here,” Jorge managed to whisper to the young Cervantes. “A lot of people died in that club and the area was far more open. I’d hate to think what he could do in here.”
Posted by Cheshire on Oct 21, 2012 16:01:34 GMT -6
Mutant God
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Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
There were a lot of things Calley could do to help out here.
For one thing, he had a shiny new rhino form. Just as effective as a tiger to the face, but more well armored.
For another, why chose? Rhino to the face, then tiger, then... actually, that was about the end of his really impressive forms. But still: splinters. Definitely useful for ending a fight fast.
And his favorite? Sneak around the counter corner as a mouse, and turn the guy into a pink fairy armadillo. It was much harder to be a threat when you were palm-sized and clinically blind.
There were a lot of things Calley could do to help out, but not many he was willing to do in front of Detective Cervantes. It was bad enough his face would be all over the bank tapes; he didn't need to add his power set to the evidence, too. As long as he played human, he would always have reasonable doubt on his side. Reasonable doubt being named Slate.
"So we've got a mutant with decent control, who just doesn't care about collateral damage? Great." Calley said. Then, putting on his best new-to-the-force face, he asked: "What do you want me to do, Sir?"
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Jorge
They were quickly running out of time. They needed to come up with something, quick, before they were separated. It wouldn’t take ole Grenade-Head long to realize that the two of them were police officers and Jorge had a sneaking suspicion that when he did, well, pardon the expression, but he may well just blow his top.
…
Heh.
Gerard began to stalk around the people that were already on the ground or had their hands up. Sure, he could have robbed them, but it was obvious that he was after a bigger payoff than just that. He stalked around the teller windows, punching in codes that would allow the teller drawers to pop open. Greedily he snorted and grinned whenever he caught sight of all that green and began to stuff handfuls of them into several bags that he had hidden inside of his coat when he came to work this morning. Sure it was a little clichéd but Gerard wasn’t looking to reinvent the wheel.
Jorge eyed the man as he began to draw closer. They needed to get people out of here. That was his top most priority.
>> "So we've got a mutant with decent control, who just doesn't care about collateral damage? Great…What do you want me to do, Sir?"
The kid had such a fresh face. Jorge actually wondered if the young man had EVER taken off the training wheels before today. Maybe this was his first day actually being on the job. If so this was going to be quite a first day story. Still, though, as Jorge eyed him he couldn’t help but wonder why the kid looked familiar. He didn’t just look like he had one of those faces, he looked like someone he actively met. Unfortunately not was not the time to ask him if the guy had a brother, they needed to think.
He was fairly certain that his mutation could handle the Gerard but there were still so many people at risk. Even if Jorge could turn into water or summon water from the sprinkler system situated overhead, would it be fast enough to stop Gerard? He doubted it. But…maybe if he could keep Gerard talking, that would be enough for Officer Cervantes to get the rest of the people out of the building… “Okay, stay out of sight,” he whispered to the newbie officer. “I’ll draw his attention and try to keep him talking. I need you to start trying to get people out of the front door.”
“Hey!! Who’s over there!?” Gerard growled as he started to stalk towards their location.
“Stay out of sight,” Jorge whispered to the young officer again and stepped out into view, holding up his hands. “Hey, buddy,” Jorge said as he kept his badge hidden. “I-I’m sorry. I…I’m just scared…”
Gerard snarled as he snapped his fingers towards the older man.
“Come ‘ere! I said everyone down!! Who you think you are?”
Jorge, hands up, walked towards Gerard and hoped that his fellow officer was laying low enough to remain out of sight.
Posted by Cheshire on Nov 11, 2012 16:14:12 GMT -6
Mutant God
3,233
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Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
Stay low, keep quiet, and sneak out of here with the rest of the hostages while the good Detective distracted the nice Talking Grenade?
Don't mind if I do.
The shifter waited below the level of the counter until Detective Cervantes started his steady walk towards the criminal mastermind; then he looked just a few feet away, towards the people huddled in the next line over.
Can you read lips? He mouthed silently. The man there gave him blank, uncomprehending eyes; the woman had enough sense to shake her head. Well, it had been worth a shot.
With a glance back Cervantes to check the real officer's progress, Calley silently scooted his way across the floor. The two people obligingly huddled closer as he reached them.
"I'm a police officer," he whispered. "My partner is going to keep this guy distracted, but I need your help. What I need you to do—"
From them, he made his way to the group in front of the next teller's stand, and the next; there had been four lines open in all, including the one he'd been in. The one good ol' Green Head had been working. By the time he reached them, they were already waiting.
Scared people appreciated a calm face making its way toward them, and a good conspiratorial huddle. All in a morning's work for young Officer Cervantes.
Now, there was just the man stranded over at the island; the one that housed the blank deposit slips, and pens on chains. One of them swung slowly above the man's head as he sat frozen, his eyes darting between Calley and the scene playing out between the Detective and their volatile captor. The shifter just needed a few more seconds to get to him. A few more seconds, and a really good distraction.
The island was in the middle of the bank floor, in full view.
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Jorge
Hands still up, Jorge did his best to sound as unthreatening and harmless as possible. In all honesty he knew he shouldn’t have trusted the young officer to get people out of here all by himself; it was exceedingly dangerous. But at the same time he couldn’t have sent the kid to deal with this lunatic too. Either way it was a horrible circumstance to be in so Jorge chose the lesser of two evils for the kid.
Besides, if things got hairy, Jorge hoped that his abilities could at least keep the grenade man from causing too much harm. He didn’t need for the man to lose his head.
Pun not intended.
“I asked you who are you?!” the man demanded again! If Jorge didn’t know any better he could have sworn that the man’s dark green head shifted towards a darker and more dangerous red. Definitely not good for keeping the situation calm.
“Whoa, whoa,” Jorge said, stopping and showing that he was unarmed. “My name is Jorge, I only came in to make a withdrawal. I didn’t meant to interrupt anything.”
“Well you did! Bad day for you!!” the man screeched and pointed to the man. “Turn around! Now!”
Jorge sighed and slowly turned around so that his back was to the man. Instantly he felt the man move closer and pat his side. He knew that within seconds the man would find his secured gun as well as his badge attached to his belt. Quickly his mind raced as he attempted to think so something, anything that would keep this guy from blowing his top. He slowly solidified onto an idea to at least keep the officer and the departing civilians from being noticed.
patpat
“Hey! What…a gun? Badge? YOU’RE A COP!?” the man screamed and forcefully turned Jorge around.
“Eeeeasy,” Jorge said as soothingly as possible. “Like I said, I don’t know what’s going on. I only came in to make a withdrawal. I don’t mean you any harm.” Just before he had been turned he saw that a few civilians were sneaking out but there was no sign of the other officer. He hoped that the kid managed to make some miracle happen in getting people out of here before they were running out of time.
“Well you may have just stumbled into the worst day of your li—“ The man paused and started to look over Jorge’s shoulder. Had been allowed to look, he would have seen the young officer in the “far-too-big-and-too-cool” trenchcoat attempting to coax one last civilian out from underneath the island in the middle of the bank floor. But Jorge couldn’t allow that.
Feeling the sensation of water, Jorge suddenly curled his hands into fists and locked onto the water dispenser against the back with. With a loud, CRASH!! the plump, five gallon, plastic bottle exploded due to the pressure of the water inside. It was enough to pull the grenade-man’s attention away and hopefully give Young Cervantes a chance to get the last civilian.
