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.
Ignatius Arthur Doyle always kept his promises. At least in the last thirty-five years since his last "change" he did not recall having broken any promise. So, when he promised her fiancee they will dine in the most luxurious restaurant in New York city, they did it. And although he had attended glorious banquets in castles and inns around the world and in times when the slightest error could make you lose your head, he never felt more insecure. He felt out of place. As a stranger.
Gently he retrieved his watch from its home at his breast. The silver pocket watch shone slightly capturing the artificial light, alarmed by the glittering Arthur closed his hand around the old gadget to avoid people looking at it and kept it there tightly as if was his own heart. He tried to protect it. He did not know exactly from what. Feeling that his nervousness was growing gradually he put his watch near his ear, with the intention of listening to the comforting sound of the gears moving inside, but the murmur of the restaurant did not allow it. Frustrated, he put the device back into place, ready to return to waiting for her love, but not before touching the ring that rested in the depths of his inner pocket. After confirming that the two treasures were safe, he dived into his thoughts and the sense of discomfort returned again.
He only managed to return to the present when a voice very similar to that of his beloved Denise pronounce his whole name. Just as she did when she was a little angry. She was just in front of him, staring. Ignatius stood awkwardly, and greeted his girlfriend with a passionate kiss that started a lovely evening.
The dinner was fantastic, his proposal was accepted and the "dessert" was even more glorious than everything else but despite all that, he knew he could never get that initial kiss off of his head. He would remember it forever. Even when several hours passed since that demonstration of love, he could still feel the heat on his lips. That kiss awakened him. Commanded him to see the world with a clarity and beauty that he had never known. Remembering the feeling, he put his hands over his lips. They were burning. He touched his forehead and was burning too. He paused and closed his eyes for a moment and felt as the air around his shoulder become heavy and dense. Like if the wolrd was trying to compress him into nothing. With horror he discovered that he had all the symptoms of the "change".
Despite his pleas, his brain shut down suddenly right after sending a pulse through the city. He wake up in a house he did not know, although it was his. Arthur wore clothes that were too big for him that hindered his movements. So he took them off in an attempt to move freely. He felt the urge to investigate where he was. And after searching all the rooms, he noticed he was the only person in the house. It was like one of those horror movies he was not supposed to watch. He ran to the bathroom, took a chair and climbed to observe his face closely in the mirror. He had no mark on his neck, and he was not turning into a zombie. That was good. Ignatius Arthur Doyle was the same boy of twelve that fall asleep the night before. Oddly he had awoken in another place.
Posted by Skydancer on Mar 28, 2012 17:14:33 GMT -6
Gamma Mutant
328
0
Nov 10, 2013 17:18:54 GMT -6
Devyn yawned and stretched, curled up in her warm cocoon of blankets. She didn't have school or practice this morning and as such it was a rare opportunity to sleep in. The other children got to sleep in on the weekends and had all the free time in the world, but not her because she knew, if she ever wanted to become an Olympic gymnast, the only way to do so was to practice every single day. So, even on the weekends, she was usually awake by 7 am so she could get a few hours of practice in because there was nothing else in the world more important to her. Her friends thought she was crazy, but she'd show them when her dream finally became a reality. Failure was not even an option to consider. But today, today was to be a rare day off and she planned to enjoy it.
Finally opening her eyes, Devyn looked towards where her alarm clock was normally kept only to realize it wasn't there. She strained her brain in confusion, trying to recall if she had moved it for some reason. Then she realized her bed was larger and softer than the one she normally slept in. Fear trickled into her mind and she tried to suppress it. There had to be a logical explanation here, she was sure of it. It was like when people woke up after staying somewhere and it took them a few minutes to realize why they weren't at home and where they actually were. Devyn was 12 now and her mom had let her have her first sleepover a few weeks ago, so that must be what was going on. She was at a sleepover and she just had to wake up a little more so she could figure out whose place she was sleeping over at.
Getting up out of bed, eyebrows furrowed in her attempt to remember where she was, Devyn put on her bathrobe that was hanging by the door. She didn't know anyone with a room quite like that one, did she? Was she going crazy? Maybe after she had engaged in her usual morning grooming and breakfast, maybe then it would all make sense. She went looking for her brush, something she never left home without and was further frustrated when it was no where to be seen. That's when she walked past the mirror and froze in place.
Devyn didn't have any hair. All of it, including her eyebrows, had fallen out. More shocking than her lack of hair, her skin had turned purple and there appeared to be weird purple veins or...something under it. She didn't know what the hell they were supposed to be and their existence terrified her. Her aunt was a mutant and her sister but...it didn't work like this! You didn't just wake up and turn into a purple alien overnight. Then there was the fact that not a single thing about this room was familiar and the robe she had thrown on was a couple of sizes too large. Her blood turned to ice as she fought down her rising panic. There had to be a logical explanation. There had to be. This had to be someone's idea of a sick joke. Maybe her brother or sister was pulling some sort of elaborate prank on her.
Skydancer walked to the door of the room she was in and opened it, secretly relieved that someone hadn't locked her inside. "Krysta, Steven if this is a joke one of you are trying to play on me, I swear I am going to kill you!" Except how could either of them, mutant or not, create a joke that elaborate? None of them had access to a giant building like she currently found herself in. Suddenly realizing that this wasn't like anything she could possible explain, Devyn found herself on the brink of tears.
Posted by Gina Schuyler on Mar 28, 2012 17:28:56 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
palevioletred
pansexual
taken - by nessa
1,265
196
Apr 25, 2024 23:12:30 GMT -6
Sophy
Gina was lounging in her bedroom when the shift occurred… half-covered in blankets, book upon her lap. It was a popular title right now, a book-made-movie that nearly every child at Xavier’s seemed to be reading. It was a good book, and Gina was wholly absorbed in it.
One second, she was flipping from one page to the next, and the next—
Her mind blanked. A ten-year-old Gina blinked her round, brown eyes blankly. Was she reading just now? Funny, she’d forgotten that she’d been reading. Gina closed her book pensively, flipping to the front cover. She didn’t recognize the title, and it wasn’t a library book.
This isn’t my book, the ten-year-old gargoyle observed. Gina closed the book, lifting her gaze. A thrill of terror struck her. This isn’t my room!
“Momma?” she squeaked, “Dante…? Maxwell…? Jameson…?”
Neither her mother nor her brothers answered, Gina got off of the unfamiliar bed, starting to tremble with the threat of tears. She was in clothes that weren’t hers either. A pair of jeans that were too big and concealing her clawed feet, a t-shirt that was falling off of her shoulders and hanging off of her wings. Gina wandered to one door first, and found it to be the bathroom, poking her head in. The round face of a child peered back. She looked just as Gina always had, but without the curves, and only a few inches shorter. Well, if this wasn’t the door out, the other one had to be.
Gina surrendered to the panic and ran for the door, a frightened shout climbing in her chest.
“Mooom!” Gina sobbed, tears springing to her eyes as she threw the door open. She hiked her jeans up after nearly tripping over them, bursting into the hallway as she stumbled over her own two feet, “Mommy! Dante! Where are you!?”
Gina didn’t feel safe without someone in her family with her, “Mommy!”
Her gaze swiveled around anxiously, a taloned hand flying to her mouth as she attempted to swallow her sobs. She had to get out of this place, wherever it was, and find her mommy. Gina began to walk in one direction down the hall, alternating between jogging and walking quickly, and making no attempt to hide the fact that she was in-tears and very scared.
Finally he had his damn car back, and about time too. Living life without his car was pure hell on earth, things had to make a turn for the better now. With the windows rolled down, the dreadlocks bounced about in the wind with no care. Car stereo blaring, Hokee reclined in his laid back relaxed stance. With his car in action, stupid probation of the Xmen was not even a slight concern of his. His car, his rules and if anyone had a problem with it, they could eat his exhaust while he pealed out in their faces.
The only thing he needed to add to the total badass image right now would be a cancer stick hanging out of his mouth and a bottle in a brown bag on the passenger seat next to him. Oddly enough he hadn't picked up the bad habit of smoking yet, though given time with his tendency of life it couldn't be to far away in the future. Pushing a dreadlock from his face, it became a bit harder to see over the steering wheel of the car. Leaving the fashionable position, the teen found himself sitting straighter and straighter up till the point his legs stretched to stay on the gas peddle.
Both feet fumbled under his body until contact was made with the break peddle. A hissing sound pushed through his teeth while his brain regressed. "Whoa." Both feet on the break, the hands awkwardly pulled and pushed half the items in the car till the sound of the engine ceased. Scooting back in the seat a bit, the kid took a long breath before yanking the keys from the car. One could never know when or why they might need them. It was in this position, that his eyes drift down to a location of great embarrassment.
Eyes shifted back and forth at passing cars. He had to get something a bit....dryer on. The clothes were a bit big, but baggy was cool so it wasn't to bad. The shoes were huge though. No wonder he had so much trouble getting the car to stop. Yanking the pants and boxers off in a single swipe, the gears in his head were more lost then ever. Those were not his underwear, they looked more like shorts...wait those were boxers and not... "Huh?" Climbing over the car seats wearing just a t-shirt and rather huge socks, Hokee was soon standing on the side walk pulling the shirt down a bit.
The head that used to be full of dread locks now flowed in long brown hair to his butt. With his small frame and girlish figure, the only indication of his true gender was hidden over the stretched down shirt. Cars continued to zip down the street and the sidewalks were covered with tons of people walking about. Where was he, what was he doing in a car behind the wheel and more importantly, where were his pants! The socks on his feet sagged down his ankles and he kept tripping over them as the fabrics caught into the cement creases. It didn't take long before the socks were lost on the street as his feet paddled faster on the ground in search for anything he knew.
The wind blew across the back of his body, sending an unwelcome draft. Pulling the shirt down more, the eleven year old knew he needed something longer to wear until he could get home. Oddly enough, this didn't look like anything like Lafayette or Syracuse.....or even Tully....this was to big. Running past a clothes line, he yanked off the first thing he could find and threw it over his body. Discarding the shirt behind, he was supporting a very contrasting image then something he normally deemed.
Then he spotted it...the largest house he had ever laid eyes on. "Hannah Montana, has to live there!" With his long flowing brown hair flowing in the wind, even the temporary eleven year old didn't care he was running in NYC in a dress. One would wear anything to get close to a star. Trying to act normal, and not the least bit suspicious, the younger version of Hokee soon twisted the door open to the rather large house. Sticking his head through, he couldn't help but hear a screeching. Stumbling through the door, there was only one thing he could think of. Save Hannah Montana! Running towards the noise, Hokee's body flailed about wildly.
Isabel was used to waking up by herself. Occasionally her mother or father would give a harsh knock on her door to rouse her from her sleep if they thought she was lingering in bed too long, but that was about it. Usually she was left to wake on her own and take care of her own morning ritual while her fath- er, Mr. Duskmoor got himself ready for work and his wife tried to busy herself around the house in any way she could without including her small charge in the process.
She had even gotten used to waking up in a strange room after the couple had dropped her on the doorstep of a random New York child services center the day she'd turned nine years old. She'd been shipped off to a more permanent facility and was constantly being hoisted from one room to another whenever the one she was currently residing in accumulated enough damage for the staff to consider it a dangerous living area. She never had any roommates, even though there as always an extra bed in her rooms. The other kids tended to get a little nervous around the girl that could maim them at the drop of a hat, accidentally or otherwise.
She shook her fingers free of a hole in her blanket in order to rub away the sleep in her eyes as she started to wake herself. There were always holes in her mattresses and sheets. Sometimes her clothes, too. She probably reacted physically to her dreams without even knowing it until the morning after. She always had a spare blanket somewhere in her room for when the one she was using got too damaged to properly keep her warm overnight.
Her movement was somewhat impaired as her clothing seemed to entangle her limbs more so than usual and she had to fight her way out of bed in between them and the blankets covering her. She had to all but dive to save her bottoms from hitting the floor when she got to her feet. They were much too big, which was odd. Her clothes often had holes in them, but they always fit fairly well. Her shirt seemed to be trying to slip off her shoulders at every chance it got as well. These were not clothes made for a ten year old body.
Come to think of it, the carpet on her floor was odd, too. She'd been consistently confined to rooms with wooden floors after she'd ripped up patches of carpet one too many times. Looking up from her toes and from the outfit she didn't remember falling asleep in, she took in her surroundings.
This wasn't right at all. This room was too big and much too decorated and personalized to be her room. It was also much less damaged. Had she gotten up in the middle of the night and relocated herself? It certainly couldn't have been the staff. They hardly ever touched her, nevermind picking her up and carrying her to a new location.
She slowly wandered around the room, her hands clutching at the waistband of the green shorts she was wearing. The blue walls were pretty, she was used to white. And the badges stuck into the wall were strange but interesting, though they certainly weren't hers. There were three doors in the room, one of which was clearly a closet door and the other that turned out to be a bathroom, meaning the third must have been the exit.
All of the clothes in the closet were much too big, further enforcing the fact that this wasn't her room or one that she should be in. That meant she should probably leave. And find some clothes that fit while she was at it.
The door that lead into an unfamiliar hallways wasn't locked. Neither were most of the doors that also lined the hallway, which was a nice change of pace. The adoption staff usually kept doors locked all the time in order to prevent her from getting into things she shouldn't and from damaging them in the process.
It took a few tries before she found a room that apparently housed a resident around her age and she promptly relieved their dresser of an acceptable outfit. She had few qualms about helping herself to their hairbrush, too, after she'd cleaned it out, and tied her hair up into pigtails.
Leaving the room behind, she decided it was time she explored the unknown place she'd woken up in. Maybe she'd find something interesting to do.
Night was fast descending over the great city of New York, the bright light of day being replaced by the artificial lights of thousands of buildings and cars. Despite the hour, the city was never truly asleep and to one who was observing the city from any high or far away point would be dazzled by the display of artistic beauty before them.
Not that Kyle was seeing that beauty at this hour. Instead, he was indoors, just finishing up the last few steps of a workout routine that he'd spent a fair portion of the day working at. And finishing up meant exiting the shower room that the Sanctuary provided for its occupants, a towel rubbing away the majority of the water that whetted his hair. His muscles burned, a sign that Kyle had worked out hard enough to tire even his resilient body, a thought which only brought a smile to his face. It was how he'd managed to achieve the athletic and shaped body in half the time others could and it had saved his life many a times over.
Tossing the towel into a pile of them in the corner, Kyle exited out into the many halls of the Sanctuary and made for his room there. Rest was calling, just none too strongly quite yet. He was contemplating whether or not he should go to visit(or pester in her opinion) Isabel when that need to sleep suddenly multiplied ten fold. Kyle's knees went weak, causing him to put a hand on the wall for balance. That didn't last long before he was dropping to his knees, a hand going to his head as a wave of nausea swept over him.
Kyle managed to get to his feet once more and stumbled down the hall, managing to get a few extra yards before the weakness overwhelmed him and dropped him to his knees again. Then everything went dark.
When Kyle opened his eyes, everything had changed. And the strange part, which he was unaware of, was that everything was the same. It was him who had changed.
Kyle's eyes took in a surroundings that were utterly alien to him. This was not the house he'd grown up in or lived in. He was in a hallway that could easily have let several people wander shoulder to shoulder in it. The place looked too fancy to be his little home as well, a sight which both bewildered and frightened him. Frantically, his little mind worked to place how'd he'd gotten here. Just the other day, his parents had taken him to the doctor over that incident at school, where the doctor had given them shocking news about him. That Kyle was a mutant. Was this place the result of that?
Try as he might, Kyle couldn't remember how he'd gotten here. So the only thing he could do was explore and see what he could find out. Besides, this place seemed interesting and if Kyle was one thing, it was adventurous. Looking down either direction, Kyle decided on one of them and after hiking up his clothes, which seemed to be just a little big for him, Kyle headed off to explore...and almost ran down a girl coming around the corner.
Kyle stumbled over his oversized clothes, but managed to avoid crashing into the girl. Quickly turning to her, Kyle fumbled to keep his pants from dropping before addressing her. "Sorry sorry! I'm a little lost and my mind wasn't all here. Say, do you know where here is? I'm, uh...new I guess."
Posted by Verdigris on Mar 29, 2012 6:15:40 GMT -6
Beta Mutant
512
0
May 15, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -6
Verdy smiled in her sleep and rolled over. Today James was going to take her out riding on the new horse his parents had been saving for for months. The horse was glorious, she had seen it arrive earlier in the week, chestnut sides gleaming and dark eyes wise in the dim light of the trailer. James’ parents had spent the week conditioning it, getting it used to the sights and smells (and other horses) in their pasture. Today was the day she was allowed to ride it.
Her eyes opened slowly, despite her excitement, and she found her nose was feeling a chill, which was odd as the weather should have been a balmy constant. Blinking into focus she moved her eyes across the litter of treasures on the bedside table, none of them hers. Curious she wriggled upright and found herself in a bed she didn’t know, in an unfamiliar room, complete with a strange- but seemingly friendly- dog panting up at her. The pyjama shirt was so loose around her that her rolling had managed to get it on backwards, the happy dinosaur logo against the bed head, and the undergarment beneath it was hardly necessary. She giggled, she had bought her first training bra weeks ago, but this seemed more like something her mother might hang on the line, and the front cups seemed hysterically empty.
Despite her unfamiliar territory twelve year old Verdy was curious, so she wiggled her way off the bed and began hunting through the draws for something more her size than the current getup which seemed determined to writhe its way off her body. The friendly dog snuffled at her bare toes as she searched and she giggled again, his cold nose tickled against her feet.
Finally, tucked right at the back of a draw filled with other full-sized underwear she found a skirt more her length, with a belt that matched, and had enough holes to tighten around her waist. The button-up shirt that went with it was the right length but a little loose around the arms and chest, so she pulled on a white singlet that fit snugly underneath. Little did she know her older form wouldn’t be caught dead roaming the mansion hallways in that particular outfit she had chosen.
After a visit to the bathroom to peek in the mirror (green in her hair! How strange) and borrow the hair brush that lay there she wandered back through the room towards the other door. Friendly dog ‘whuff’-ed and held a lead out in his mouth, and who was she to say no. Curious and a little muddled she left the room and began to wander the hallway, searching for something familiar in this unfamiliar place.
Seyta jumped awake as her alarm clock went off. Except that wasnt her alarm clock, Seyta set hers to classical music and that was the morning news. Seyta rubbed the sleep from her eyes and glanced around the room. She wasn't in her bed, it was a big bed like her parents. The room was a complete mystery to her as well. "Wait... why did the news guy say New York City?"
Seyta threw back the covers and swung out of the bed only to trip on the silk nightgown the was wearing. Her eyes went wide as she stood up and moved towards the window. The gown was defiantly not hers and too big to stay on properly. Pulling it up to her knees she walked to the window and peeked out from behind the curtain. The view outside was a busy city street from an apartment window four floors up, the news guy was right. This wasn't Salem, this was New York. "Mom?" Her voice was starting to whimper in fear. She stepped back and looked at the far wall, there was one door.
Quickly running to the door Seyta stepped into the next room cautiously and quite scared. She was in a Kitchen living room combo, this wasn't her house, or any house she knew. "MOM? DAD?" Silence answered her. Despite her rising fear Seyta knew enough to find some clothes before wandering around for help.
Fighting back tears she walked back to the bedroom and started going through the dresser. It took some time to find anything that would fit. Everything was made for someone taller than Seyta. One drawer held some undergarmets that made Seyta blush, her mom would kill her if she wore those. As she continued her search Seyta settled on a pair jeans and a t-shirt. She luckily found a belt to hold the pants up despite needing to rolls the cuffs several times.
Despite her fears, getting dressed helped Seyta to slow down a bit and think. She was in New York City, and in a strange house. Other than that she didn't know anything about what was going on. Her parents always told her to stay put if she was lost in a strange place so that's what she did. Wandering around the small three room apartment Seyta found her first clue, a wallet. Checking it out she found a good amount of cash. Pulling out the drivers license Seyta froze.
"Seyta Alic, Born 10/20/1982...." Seyta stared at the license in disbelief. The picture looked like Seyta but was much older. She had the same name and birthday, same eye color. But the address was wrong. As her fear welled up again Seyta sat down and started bawling.
The morning sun poured in through the window, warming the 10 year-old’s face. Shane opened his eyes only to snap them shut again immediately from the blindness the bright light brought with it. He remained lying there with his eyes squeezed tight hoping he could fall asleep again, but it was too late, he was up. Then an important piece of information popped into his mind: he was missing cartoons!
He opened his eyes to a narrow squint, focusing for a moment on the giant red dot floating in the center of his vision. He blinked excessively, but eventually got used to the sunlight. That’s when he noticed none of his posters or drawings were on any of the walls.
The room he was in was completely empty except for the bed he was on. There wasn’t a single piece of furniture and there were no decorations. It didn’t seem to be much different in size then his own room though, so his initial thought was that mom had come in while he was sleeping and cleaned it up. Cleaned it up a little too good. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to see the walls of his room beneath all the things he’d tacked up. He wasn’t happy about this, but he was calming down, which was good because the cartoons weren’t going to wait.
Excitedly he went to fling the blankets off, but something felt weird. His arm didn’t react as quickly as he wanted it to, and moving felt really strange, like running in water. He did manage to get the covers off though, only to want to scream once he did. He was looking back at what appeared to be an oil spill covering his entire body. He tried to roll around out of it, but no matter which way he moved the black goop seemed to stick to him. He was starting to feel like Br’er Rabbit caught in the tar trap. Shane tried to let out a scream to his mommy, but nothing but a choking cough came out.
The boy was in full-fledged panic mode now, rolling out of the bed and hitting the ground with a thump, landing on what should have been his shoulder. He was going to make a run for the door assuming someone would be outside that could help him clean off. He inched his way across the floor towards the closed door. Every once in while looking back to his bed (which didn’t look like his bed), only to be surprised that this oil wasn’t leaving any kind of trail behind it.
When he got within a few feet of the door, he started reach his arm out to grab the handle which was quite high up his current horizontal position. He stretched his arm up and strained to make it longer. To his surprise, his arm actually did stretch out. He grabbed the handle with ease, but he didn’t open it. Instead he just kept trying to stretch his arm out to see how high he could get it. It was no time before he was able to touch the ceiling.
“Cool...” he though to himself. The word still wouldn’t actually come out of his mouth (nothing but gurgling noises when he tried to speak). Was he a mutant now? Was this how mutations work? You just woke up as a blob one morning? He was going to get to the bottom of this. He grabbed the door handle again, opening it this time. Time to find his parents.
Michael roused up, his vision blurred but clearing as he woke up. The remnants of a dream ran through his head. It was a strange dream, he was a soldier or something, like a special forces guy or something. The memory of the dream was fading though.
He looked around the room, this wasn't his room. This was not a room he recognized in the least. Not only that, there was heat on his back so he turned to find a woman with dirty blond hair behind him. He had no idea who she was, she was hot though. He sat up and looked around the room, he didn't recognize anything here. He slid out of bed, his heart rate accelerating. He didn't know where he was, who this woman was... Why there was a gun laying around.
He started to walk toward it when his underwear started falling off. He caught it and looked down, it was way too big for him. Why was he wearing what looked like it could have been his dad's underwear? What the hell was going on? He ran his free hand through his short hair and tried to figure out what was going on.
His panicked brain came up with nothing. He looked around for some clothes that might fit, everything looked too big and/or was for girls. That being unsuccessful he found a short flight of stairs leading down and made his way into the main floor of the apartment he was in. He made his way to a window, looked outside, and saw the city. Some city. What city was this? He had never seen a city that looked like this.
So he was in a strange apartment, in a strange city, with a strange woman. He had been kidnapped! Yet a mistake had been made. He went back up the stairs and found the black pistol he had seen earlier. Grabbing it he fumbled with it a little, he had only ever used a shotgun before, and pulled back the slide to see if it was loaded. There was a loud series of clicks, a cartridge of .357 Sig was ejected hitting the wall, and Michael searched the gun for a safety, of which there was none, oblivious to his surroundings.
Hank lay curled in the corner of his room, his mouth slightly open, tongue lolling out. Making some sort of unintelligible sound, he rolled over and bit his tongue a bit. "Ow!" He exclaimed as he moved to cover his mouth his his hand, as if that would help with the pain. As his hand covered his mouth, he was overcome by a feeling of wrongness. The boy opened one eye and saw a scaled claw in front of him. He did double-take as both his eyes opened and he jumped back away from the claw into the wall. "What the hell!"
The claw moved when he did, and he used his other hand to stop it. He yelled when he saw that the hand that stopped the claw was also a clawed appendage. Hank began to breath rapidly as panic started to rise within him. Looking down he saw his whole body was covered in a multitude of colored scales. Without thinking his right hand started trying to claw his left arm's scales off, but he couldn't get a grip and his claws slid off his arm.
Hank sank to the floor, his knees pressing against his chest. He ran his hands over his head, through his hai...He froze in place as he felt the top of his head. Whatever was covering his head was not hair. It felt like some sort of helmet, it extended from the base of his neck all the way down his nose. 'Oh god, oh god ohgodohgod, what happened to me?!' He yelled in his head. He rocked back and forth for a bit, trying to calm down.
After a few minutes, he stood up and looked around the room he was in. It wasn't just sparse, it was bare. There was no chair, or dresser, and no bed. There were three doors, two of which were open. The bathroom was dark except for a very dim light from the ceiling. With that small amount of light, he could see the closet was empty. The only interesting thing about the room were the slashes and gashes in the walls, floor and ceiling. Hank started to get that panicky feeling again, thinking he had been dropped into the room of some monster.
Then he remembered his own body and thought maybe he had been turned into the monster. "No way! I've gotta still be dreamin." He grabbed his lip and pulled hard, "OW!" His vision blurred with the pain. After blinking away the tears he moved into the bathroom so he could look in the mirror. Normally he would have to stand on something to see above the sink, but that wasn't really an issue now. When he saw his reflection in the mirror he was startled and fell backwards into the large tub.
Oddly he didn't feel any pain as he hit his head against the tub, just the pressure of the impact. Odder still was the long thing stuck under him that hung outside the tub still. It had the color of his scales and he could 'feel' it without touching it. While staring at he twitched his arms and legs and the thing moved after. Pulling himself out of the tub, Hank saw what it was and couldn't help but chuckle nervously. "A tail....really. Hehe....heh...Moooooooom!" His voice was louder than it had ever been, deeper. He swallowed when he didn't hear any response. "Okay..."
A shiver ran down his spine as he moved to the only door left. He gripped the handle and tried to turn it. And failed. He tried again and again, each time his hand slipped and couldn't get a grip on it. Hank got frustrated and gripped it as hard as he could, as he turned he pushed against it and *SNAP!* The whole thing broke off. "Daaaaaaaaaad! Help! I can't get out!" Hank started pounding on the door and slamming his shoulder into it. He didn't realize he was causing cracks to show up in the overly thick door. "Ma! Really, I can't get the door open!" He was about to start crying when he heard the door making a snapping sound.
He stepped back and looked at it. His fists had put some serious cracks into the door and it's frame. "No way..." Hank had seen it work in movies and tv before, so why not right? Taking a few deep breaths, he got himself ready and kicked the door with everything he could muster. Which turned out to be more than necessary. The already breaking door nearly exploded into the hallway.
Hank stepped out into the new area slowly, looking left and right. "I'm definitely not in Kansas anymore." He had never been outside of New York before, but the expression seemed to fit. "Well...here goes nothin." Hank picked a direction and started walking, all the while dragging his claws against the walls, leaving long marks the whole way. It didn't take long for him to hear other people. "Maybe they know what the hell is going on."
Nate was absorbed in his art, suffering the call of his craft. He anticipated going home, but by the time he even noticed a clock (and remembered what a clock was,) it was very late. He had a class in the morning, which was quickly approaching. Weighing the pros and cons of returning to the apartment, he resigned himself to sleeping on his desk, prepared to deal with a sore back in the morning.
The Morning.
Stephen was tired, and his eyes initially refused to open. He was uncomfortable; the orphanage beds were stiff, but not often this unwilling to compromise. It took a few moments for him to put together that something was amiss.
He opened his eyes to realize that he was not in his room at all, which was the first of many concerning revelations. He was not covered in a blanket or on a bed; he was on a desk in a classroom, wearing pants and a button-down shirt that were too big for him, and too nice for him to own.
He sat up, trying to recognize the room; it looked nothing like the prisons of learning they had in the orphanage classes. Could it be a prank? The bullies dragged him to a school in his sleep? It did not make sense.
He got up, walking around the room. The shoes were equally too large, and unlike the pants and shirt, they were hindering him. He took them off; if he was going to be somewhere weird, what was the harm in being in socks?
Before he left the room, he noticed a painting that was about a third away from being finished. He found it impressive and detailed, but he was not a fan; art was a bit too pretentious for him to waste time with, barring the drawing and sketching in notebooks.
Stephen ventured into the hallway to find someone to possibly fill him in on where he was.
