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.
The royal blue Chevy Colorado moved down the Pennsylvania country dirt road without the slightest flinch. A heavy duty truck built with work and off roading in mind, it was the perfect vehicle for a man like Jacen King. Dressed in black military boots, camo pants, and a camo sweat shirt the former Ranger had just completed a successful hunt. Stowed in the bed of the truck was the deer carcase that he was now transporting to be butchered into the various venison pieces that he enjoyed so much. He was already day dreaming about the pile of deer jerky that this particular buck would provide.
Within the crew cab of the truck was what at first glance looked like a typical gun rack that you would see in most southerner's trucks. However, upon closer examination it was clear that there were no guns hanging in the back. Instead, a beautiful Hatfield Take-Down Recurve Bow was hung lovingly on its padded pegs, along with a quiver containing 12 broad-head arrows.
The day was cool but with the bright sunshine coming down it kept things from being to cold. There were even some bugs out, which was strange for winter, with various birds out trying to grab a snack. Reaching over, Jacen flipped on the radio and began to sing along with the first country station that he came to. He was a professional at his job but when he was able to get away, he quickly turned into what most people called a "good ol' boy". This was the life... nature... hunting... and a big truck. What more could a man ask for?
After making sure that the stretch of road in front of him continued on straight and clear for at least a few hundred yards, Jacen leaned over to his glove compartment and opened it, searching for the local map he had bought at a gas station several hours earlier. "That guy marked the quickest way back to the highway... if I can just find the map!" Jacen grumbled under his breath as he took his eyes off the road, and his foot off the accelerator, allowing the vehicle to slow while he continued his search.
Today was a make believe day. Pix could be anything she wanted in the wonderful Land of Make believe. Magic beyond Adult Knowledge, and Education. Pix had never really liked growing up anyways. Games were just more fun.
On this day of make believe, Pix was a dragon… A little red dragon fly to be exact, and it was her job, her game, her privilege to rid the world of all the giant feathered monsters. The problem was that these monsters were quite stupid. Perched on the trees or the telephone poles sleeping as if they owned the world and could close their eyes any time they wished. It was for this reason that Pix chose the little red dragon fly.
Some birds would give chase right away. Others you had to talk into chasing you. You had to wave back and forth. You had to pull at their feathers, and in this bird’s case, Pix had to shove the tip of her wing in the bird’s eye before the thing woke up enough to think she was worth taking wing after.
Now a dragon fly isn’t strong enough to do a lot of poking damage. Especially against feather armor, but when she went for such a sensitive area, the little poke from her sharp little feat, that she stomped as hard as her little dragonfly self could, that seemed pretty effective.
Maybe a little too effective now that the chase was on. Pix zipped right and left. Dragon Fly’s being the fastest insect there was, made it look like she teleported in mid flight. Though she never moved far from where she had started from in this chase. No she still needed the bird’s complete attention and a bird looking around for a missing dragon fly is more likely to look around at their surroundings and notice that the said dragon fly had a plot against them. A plot worst than the plot hamsters have to take over the world. (Those cute little sneaky devils.)
For if the bird were to start looking around, rather than at the pesky little dragon fly, the bird might notice that they were flying over the road, They might also notice that this dragon fly had moved them lower, between getting in their face, under their wing, over their head, ect ect ect, they were about level with the on coming car that was jut about to miss said dragon fly because Said dragon fly had naturally been paying attention to such things, and Said dragon fly was just about to dart straight up when…
WTF!
Said dragon fly was suddenly a yonge naked girl, with a vindictive side against birds, long black hair, and a very surprised expression, landing on the car she had intended birdy to go splat on. Birdy must have gotten an interesting view of her back side just before Petunia thumped against the hood of the truck, and rolled back side first, so she was leaning against the wind shield. The cheeks of her derrier pressed firmly and flat against the glass.
((ooc: Calley/Slate are split personalities; Calley was the original, but Slate is currently dominant. See their profiles for more details. Currently, they've just begun to use Calley's splintering abilities to gain their own distinct bodies. Calley will be written in blue, Slate will be written in gray. Just so no one gets confused. )
Let's learn to count, kids!
One! One was the number of meddling Pennsylvanian dragonflies that were enjoying the slight warm snap in weather. One was the number of eyes the dragonfly had jabbed; one was the number of wings it had used to do so.
Two! Two was the number of birds on the tree branch. Two birds, carrying two split personalities, diligently practicing taking Calley's splintering to the next level by attempting to learn how to move independently. Two days they'd been practicing out here in Pennsy's heavily forested backwaters. Two Triforce members were camped two miles away, diligently playing a game of Poker as they waited for their two charges to return. Two was the number of hundred dollar bills Nicholas was up. Two was the number of incendiary good-luck charms Frank has strapped inside his orange camouflage coat.
Three! Three was the number of fierce aerial fighters on the wing. One dragonfly plus two birds makes three. Three fliers with three distinct opinions on this situation. The dragonfly was plotting; the twitchy bird was plotting death death kill; the serenely gliding bird was plotting eye rolls and lectures about not inanely flying off.
Four! Four was the number of wheels on the truck. Vroom, vroom, vroom, vroom went the truck. How many vrooms was that, kids? That's right: four!
Five! Five was the number of seconds the birds had until they collided with the truck's windshield. Did they notice the dragonfly's trap? No, no they didn't. How many years is the Pennsylvanian state minimum for criminal vehicular homicide? Five!
...Four!
...Three!
...Two!
Six! Six was the number of butt cheeks pressed against the nice hunter's window. Hello, Mister Hunter! I hope you learned to count. One bug, two birds, three fierce fliers, four tires, five seconds, (four, three, two), six: six butt cheeks.
Six divided by two made three: three naked people on the deer hunter's windshield. Three naked mutants, two brown haired teenage boys, and one bug girl.
Zero! Zero is the number of deer that saw this happen. Oh, you silly--! Dead deer don't count.
Just as Jacen's hand grabbed hold of the correct map, he hard a thud against his windshield. Jerking up straight the man's hands both gripped the wheel firmly as he sat up and began to just react to the situation.
"Shit!" Jacen swore as his mind raced through so many thoughts in such a short span of time. "I hit something... something big." He thought as his foot darted toward the brake pedal, stopping just short of his as his brain finally clicked on what he was seeing. A very attractive, albeit unexpected derriere was now planted firmly against his windshield.
"Holy..." Jacen breathed as his mind tried to comprehend exactly what he was seeing. How in the world had a naked woman appeared on his windshield? Blinking quickly, trying to make sure what he was seeing was real, he suddenly heard two more thuds. And just that quickly Jacen's wonderful view was spoiled by the backside of two boys.
"Ugh!" He muttered under his breath, his eyes automatically flicking back down to the instrument panel as he gently applied the brakes in order to slow the vehicle to a stop without throwing his new passengers to the ground. "I was actually beginning to enjoy this dream for just a minute."
In a matter of seconds the truck was stopped and the parking brake was firmly applied. After opening the door Jacen began to climb out, but then stopped and quickly retrieved the keys from the ignition before climbing out. Who knew what kind of weirdos these three would turn out to be... after all, who in their right mind ran around in the back woods butt naked? "Emphasis on the butt."
Walking around to the front of the truck Jacen looked up at the three individuals that were now perched on the windshield and hood of his truck. Doing his best to keep his eyes on their faces and not on anything else that might show itself, Jacen crossed his arms over his chest and raised on eyebrow questioningly.
"How the hell did you three jump onto a moving truck and what in the world are you all doing out here naked?" He asked bluntly, his voice somewhat accusing, "Did you three get drunk at a college party last night or something and so your buddies left you all behind?"
The three kids didn't really look like they were college age but who could tell anymore. So many young kids looked older while so many college student looks like little kids that there was really no way to tell. "Why in the world did there have to be three?" Jacen wondered as an abstract thought pushed its way into his head, "I would have been more than happy with just the hottie. But this... this is just wrong."
Just for the record, Petunia’s backside hurt. Just so you all know that slamming your buns against a wind shield does jar the nerves in said cheeks, just a little bit. Petunia shifted her weight off of the left, side so she could rub the area that would no doubt, bruise, by the time she got home. Sitting would be a pain in the you know where for a week.
She soon found that she was joined by not one, but two twin boys…. Well then. Apparently when you take away two birds that should be creamed into a wind shield, you get two boys that both display similar facial features. Pix leaned forward off of the hood of the car and her hair fell forward to do a very bad attempt to cover her up. Not that she cared. Her bugs always covered her skin when she changed back to human. The practiced part of her mutation was just a reflex now… Or not. Petunia looked down at her self only to see skin and well… more skin… no bugs. Well there was one. A mosquito landed on her arm and… OUCH! That little son of a- Her other hand slapped at her own arm and by, by mosquito, hello mosquito sized blood streak.
For some reason smooshing that mosquito made her remember the face she had just seen. That’s right. Face! Not that eyes didn’t wander. I mean come on. These twins were naked. Naked! Just who would have thought of such a devious picture?
“Hey I know you.” Petunia pointed to Calley, Her face going from the grimus of accepting the fact her backside was now going to have a big round bruise, to a smile. She liked Slate…. Wait a minute… Her brows furrowed. “Or is it you?..” Petunia paused.
Well there was only one way to know for sure witch boy was Slate. “Eenie-meanie-minie-moe,.. .. ..”
"How the hell did you three jump onto a moving truck and what in the world are you all doing out here naked?’
Darn it! Lost track of who was minie and who was moe…
Pix counted to three, because pix was definitely awesome in math, and then restarted the only way that was possible to determine who was Slate. “Eenie-meanie-minie-moe,.. .. ..”
”Did you three get drunk at a college party last night or something and so your buddies left you all behind?"
She got as far as tiger, then was distracted again, not knowing who was tiger. Who was the tiger anyways? Grumbling Petunia turned round and leaned forward to get in the hunter’s face. “No we didn’t for your information.” She pointed to the one closer to her. “He gave me the bird and here we are.” That was close in an accurate description, and in Petunia’s mind it made perfect sense.
Suddenly petunia’s face sort of melted from the angry look. “Or was it him….” She pointed to the one on the further side.
She pushed herself away from the glass again to lean forward. “You don’t know it but we’ve met before. Your paper bird’s mocked me, then I walked on your nose.” She looked between the two boys. “Is this your older brother?” ‘Eenie-meanie-minie- moe,.. .. ..’ “Are you still thinking about killing him?”
>> "How the hell did you three jump onto a moving truck and what in the world are you all doing out here naked? Did you three get drunk at a college party last night or something and so your buddies left you all behind?"
He was speaking... rather fast. Or Calley was thinking rather slow. Had he just been... hit by a car? Oww. Slate, you wanna heal that? ...Slate?
With the distinctive blink of a bird who's just impacted glass, the Italian teenager began to take in his surroundings. There was a guy. Yep. Hunter-type. Kinda... blood splattered. That was reassuring. Didn't look too happy. Understandable, but still not reassuring. Was moving his mouth in word-like motions. Calley figured those would start making sense again, in a little bit. As for himself, he was a little cold, suddenly. And in human form. Huh. Those two facts might have clicked together, if he hadn't seen a flesh-colored blur out of the corner of either eye. He turned his head slightly with a blink to--
"GAH!" Calley startled backwards from the evil bug girl of bunny-following doom and flour power battles and why why why hadn't she just drowned in the flea bath why?
>> “Hey I know you.”
She was smiling. He didn't like it when bug girl smiled. Or he didn't think he did.
>> “Or is it you?..”
"Huh?" Calley had the bad sense to inquire, just as he was realizing that his little backwards jump had hit him into something. He turned his head.
...Blink.
...Blink.
"GAH!" The Pod People were here, and they were starting their people replacement in the backwaters of Pennsylvania. To return to an earlier subject: Calley was vaguely aware that he'd shifted back into human form. He also couldn't feel his usual heartworm splinters, which was weird, but he was kinda writing both those things off to 'just got hit by a truck'. The SCARY CLONE OF HIMSELF? That wasn't a usual been-hit-by-a-truck symptom. Not that he remembered.
Calley skittered the heck away from Clone-Calley.
>> “Is this your older brother? Are you still thinking about killing him?”
This placed him, of course, directly in the psychotic bug girl's lap.
"I am not entirely certain that now is the proper time to discuss this," Pod-Calley spoke with eloquent sophistication, and a quiet dignity that defied the fact that he was naked on the hunter's truck.
Naked.
Heh. Well, funny story: speaking of naked--
"GAH!" Calley repeated, skittering out of the bug girl's lap. The naked bug girl. His own naked rear felt the interesting sensation of wind passing over it, then the not-as-interesting sensation of landing on unforgiving pavement.
"My apologies," the eerily calm voice of the space invader was saying to the hunter, no doubt with a properly composed expression; "I did not intend to impact your truck, per say." No, not per say. "We will be on our way as soon as my brother regains his senses."
Oww. Oww, Calley winced, wiping road grit off of his derrière as he rolled to his feet. And sort of peered over the truck. 'Cause he was sort of naked, here, and the truck made for good clothing. Yeah. Yeah, Clone-Him was still there. And he'd drawn his legs up modestly. Calley narrowed his eyes. Slate, he thought simply, I'm getting a little freaked out here. ...And you can stop ignoring me, any time. What? Did you perch in a tree? Nice of you to warn me that buggy was trying to windshield me. Freaking healers with their smug 'let you learn your lesson, and clean up the mess afterwards'. And stupid Slate, in general. And... freaky clone-thing. And... fleshy blur that he'd been glaring over. Calley made the unwise decision to turn his head again. He had to stop doing that.
"GAH!" He slapped a hand over his eyes, waving a pointing finger at Miss Muffet's Nightmare. "Would you put some moths on those things, Bugzilla?"
Turned his head and widening the gaps between his fingers slightly, Calley could see the hunter. Still kinda standing there. Chillin'. That was... great. And... he was out of here. He dropped to all fours as he shifted to--
--scrawny naked boy.
Okay. So. Ah. He shifted to--
--naked Italian kid.
To rephrase: he shifted to--
--something the hunter still didn't want to see.
Craaaaaaaaaaaaap.
His head reappeared over the top of the truck, with a baby blue blink. "Umm, so. I'm naked. Got any clothes I could borrow?"
"If you do have clothing to spare, perhaps you should give them to the lady, first."
"Yeah. What he said." For the love of his corneas and all that was burning, the bug girl needed clothes. Now. On this, Calley and the Pod Person agreed.
((ooc: Tell me if I need to re-write anything there, guys and bugs. )
“No we didn’t for your information. He gave me the bird and here we are." The naked girl said as thought it were the most obvious thing int he world even though all she was doing was leaving Jacen dumbfounded.
"Huh?"
“Or was it him….” She suddenly said in obvious confusion as she pointed to the other twin and then leaned forward and returned to her counting. Jacen continued to listen to the three individuals blabber on with somewhat rapt attention. He was doing his best to not be distracted but every time the girl turned or leaned while continuing her 'eenie, meenie, miney' he was flashed different parts of her body that no red blooded man could truly ignore.
Using all of the self control he could harness, Jacen focused on the one of the three that seemed to actually be able to speak in coherent sentences that made sense.
"My apologies, I did not intend to impact your truck, per say. We will be on our way as soon as my brother regains his senses."
"Per say?" Jacen asked, his one eyebrow still quirked in obvious disbelief as he continued to try and ignore the pale, naked skin that was on display everywhere. He would have enjoyed the view if it hadn't been for the twins that had decided to pop in along with their girlfriend or something, but man... why did this stuff happen to him?! "So that means you meant for something else to impact my truck?"
"If you do have clothing to spare, perhaps you should give them to the lady, first."
"Yeah. What he said."
"Nope... you three obviously weren't from a frat party!" Jacen said in obvious frustration as he strode around the truck, making sure to keep the vehicle between himself and the boy that was now hiding behind it, "At least two of you are straight from the fun house!"
Snatching open the back of his crew cab Jacen pulled out his heavy camouflage jacket that he often wore hunting and tossed it over to the woman. It was large and baggy so it would cover up all of the important parts but there was no way it was going to hide her legs. "Sexy legs at that." Jacen thought before mentally slapping himself, "Bad! Bad! Crazy woman... let's stay away from the crazy woman!"
After slamming the door closed Jacen walked back to the bed of his truck and looked in. There was an old tarp that the deer was laying on, along with with an old, ratty looking blanket. Seeing as how he could not allow the deer to drip blood onto his new truck, he could only take one of those items.
"And you quit laughing." Jacen muttered to the deer as its tongue lolled out in death/laughter, "I'm gonna eat you!" Quickly pulling out the old blanket Jacen walked back around the truck, offering it to the young man that was still sitting on the hood of his truck. "Here... I'm afraid you and your brother will have to share."
Glancing back toward the rear of the truck just to make sure he didn't see any more of what he really didn't want to see, Jacen once again found himself staring at the glassy eyes of his buck. "The only way this day gets any weirder is if that thing starts laughing out loud..."
Ok so apparently one of these twins had never looked fully at the other twin before, because one of them seemed quite surprised to see the other sitting there. This was new…
"I am not entirely certain that now is the proper time to discuss this,"
Oh that one was slate. Petunia squinted at his nose. Yep. She was pretty sure that was a Slate nose. It’s hard to tell who different people are with your prospective of them is closer than usual. The proportions of the face just get completely thrown off. Mean while the older brother, was scooting onto Pix’s lap. “Hey watch it.!” Petunia gave him an extra shove as he pushed off of the truck and onto the ground.
"GAH! you put some moths on those things, Bugzilla?"
“Wait…” Petuna’s smile disappeared, making her dimples on the top pair of cheeks vanish and the dimples on the other pair appear as she tensed. “How do you know I can do that!” The boy ducked behind the truck and with a squeaking noise, Pix scooted over the hood of the truck to get in the boy’s face. “Come on! Tell me! How do you know I can cover myself in bugs. Normally…” Ok so at the moment she couldn’t change either for if she could she would eat the freaking scrawny boy or something. Peaking over the hood of the tuck she looked down at Calley. “You’re strange.”
"If you do have clothing to spare, perhaps you should give them to the lady, first."
“Oh um….” As if right there things snapped into place, Petunia brought an arm up to cover her front. “My bugs aren’t working right now so…. Yeah. Please.” She hopped off of the side of the hood. The coat was tossed to her and she swiftly pulled it over her shoulders. Everything about the coat was too long and the sleeves covered her hands, witch reminded her of the one time she broke a girl out of an asylum (hymn) and clothed her self in one of the stylish hug me jackets. Something that everyone should have in their closets because everyone deserves to give themselves a hug now and then.
"At least two of you are straight from the fun house!"
Petunia shook her head. “Nope sorry. You’re mistaking me with my brother.” Though she was the one that drove him there…. on more than one way of looking at that fact… On that thought she glared at Calley. “I don’t like older brothers and I still want to know how you know about the moth thing.”
This was, perhaps, what being in a dream was like. Not that Slate had never dreamed: he had. He had simply never had a dream this... what was the word? Good.
As the former dragonfly harassed Calley and the hunter moved to rummage in his truck, Slate did something fantastic: he tilted his foot upwards off of the hood of the truck, and wiggled his toes in the cold air. Spread, close. Wiggle. All without commentary from the annoying soundtrack in his head. All without Calley. Slate wiggled his own toes.
>> "Here... I'm afraid you and your brother will have to share."
"Ah," Slate looked up, blinking his own baby blue eyes at the old blanket offered in his direction. He took it, with a slight nod. "Thank you. That will be only a minimal problem."
The butterfly he had once had a long conversation with clearly had a longer memory than most insects were reported to. And a better grasp of how to wear a coat. She pulled it on promptly, and continued her assault on Calley. It was a curious sensation to watch this occur: an out of body experience, as it were. Slate again wiggled his toes, then tentatively slid off of the truck hood onto the gloriously unforgiving black of the road.
>> “I don’t like older brothers and I still want to know how you know about the moth thing.”
"Nu-huh." Calley was saying, skittering a few steps back towards the cab of the truck in clear paranoia. "Didn't answer you the first time, not gonna answer you this time. Why don't you make with the bugging, and buzz off?" He clearly had learned nothing from his last encounter with the bug shifter, as evidenced by his verbal provocation of her. You really should be more polite, Slate thought towards him, in spite of the fact that Calley had either been ignoring him or had not been receiving his messages since this rather pleasant situation had begun. Given that this was Calley, either option was valid. He slid the blanket modestly over his shoulders, and moved around the side of the truck to stand by the girl. She was rather short, even out of bug form. Slate felt a mild urge to pat the top of her head. That silly thought was easily resisted.
"Calley--" The urge to facepalm as Calley skittered an additional few steps back was slightly more difficult to fight. "Calley, please think rationally for once in your life. Who am I?"
Baby blue eyes, the mirror of his own, narrowed. Blinked twice. Head-tilted. "...Slate?"
"Yes. Now please, would you cease and desist with your public nudity?"
That issue solved, and both 'brothers' under the blanket--and one of them making faces at the bug girl--Slate turned his attention back to the owner of the truck. The key words being, of course, 'owner of the truck'.
"If it is not a great inconvenience, may we ask you for a ride?" As opposed to leaving three naked young mutants alone in the woods, mind you. Dream or not, such an action would be slightly tasteless on the hunter's part.
...Slate wiggled his toes again, and re-adjusted the blanket over his own shoulders. There was a small smile on his lips that was somewhat inappropriate for the situation. He could not seem to... how do you say? Help it.
This situation was wierd... no, it was beyond wierd...
It was strange... no, it was beyond strange...
This situation was just pure lunacy!
As Jacen watched the three semi-naked individuals converse back and forth he had to fight off the urge to begin edging his way back toward the drivers door of his truck. Both the military and S.W.A.T. had trained him to be able to handle most any type of violent situation but none of the training had covered how to deal with two, or maybe even three, obviously crazy individuals. Could they be violent or were they the type that simply lived in their own happy little world? There was no way to tell for sure.
When Pix leaned over the edge of the truck to look at Calley, Jacen immediately looked away. She might not have realized it but leaning that way made things flash back into the open... things that Jacen really didn't want to see because it made him think of the young woman in a different way.
"She's crazy... focus on the negative... she's crazy." Jacen kept reminding himself as he looked off into the distance until one of the twins spoke to him.
"If it is not a great inconvenience, may we ask you for a ride?" The one apparently called Slate spoke up.
"I was just about to suggest that." Jacen replied quickly, as though it were the most obvious things in the world.
"What the hell? I'm inviting them into my truck?!" The man's mind screamed in outrage as he turned back around to face the three of them, "You two boys will have to take the back seat since you're sharing the blanket. Ma'am... you can either join them in the back or take shotgun up front. Your choice."
This was bad... this was really bad... as Jacen made his way around to the drivers side door his mind was racing. As far as he could remember there was only one gun in the cab, his Glock .45, and it was safely stowed under the drivers seat. Were there other weapons they could use against him? Were they crazy enough to do something like that?
"So..." Jacen said once all of them were seated inside the truck, "Where are you three headed?"
“Hey. I wasn’t done with you!” Petunia followed Calley’s skittering to not only close keep the distance from between them close, but to close it in. One hand shot forward with an extended accusing finger, that was consequently hidden by an overly long sleeve that she had to take a minute to pull back away from her hand, so her pointing finger could be seen. Because covering up such a hand signal was just wrong in cases like this.
But the second pix had the sleave over her hand, it fell to cover her fingers again.
She pulled the sleeve back and it fell.
She pulled the sleeve back and it fell…
So Pix started rolling the cuffs of the sleeve because that was the way to deal with naughty sleeves. Make them do uncomfortable forms of sleeve yoga while their where they belong. Around your wrist. Not over your hand where they inhibit your ability to point.
"Yes. Now please, would you cease and desist with your public nudity?"
Petunia grinned. “Yeah because I see London I see France, but I don’t see no underpants.”
"You two boys will have to take the back seat since you're sharing the blanket. Ma'am... you can either join them in the back or take shotgun up front. Your choice."
“Oh I call that seat.” Petunia seemed to forget about the boy Calley, and she hopped back onto the hood of the truck. Took one running step across it’s front before sliding back down onto the ground and seeing what wonders sat in the back seat.
She smiled at the bow. On the gun rack, she sort of imagined to eyes for the places that held the rack to the back of the truck, and the bow being a frowny face, because if it wasn’t frowning before Pix entered the back seat, behind the driver side, it would be at what she started doing. What other toys did this hunter have lying around. Petunia bent forward and started rummaging around the floor. Handcuffs, with keys. Bummer. She thought she found a bottle cap, that ended up being a quarter she chucked out the door. Oh look! LINT! Same on Mr. Hunter man who didn’t vacuum or put the lint where it belonged. In his pockets. But Pix would be a good girl and do that for him seeing as she was wearing his coat. The lint fount the coat pockets, suitable, and pix started rummaging around under the seat in front of her. Her fingers felt around this L shaped object that had a cool sounding switch on the side.
Pix started moving her hand forward when she found a trigger like button that she pulled and BANG!
“Oh cool!” Petunia leaned forward to look under the front seat, There was a hold in the floor board between the pedals and the seat. Now there’s an idea for trucks. Glass bottoms. So you can watch the gravel and road kill go by under you.
Slate gave a long, slow blink. His 'brother' was huddled against his side, as if for some sort of safety; the bug shifter was poking at things best kept out of her reach; the hunter was no doubt beginning to re-think his decision to give them a ride. And while Frank and Nicholas were only a two mile walk away, two miles would perhaps seem rather far to two naked young men on a winter day. Particularly as, no doubt, they would have the great misfortune of being followed by the former butterfly. This is something he wished to avoid.
"Do you know where Xavier's Sister School for Talented Youngsters is?" Slate enquired, with a clam blink. "It is a bit far, but it might be wise to take us there. It seems that all three of our powers are malfunctioning." The only thing Slate knew of that could do that was the Haywire virus; it was lunacy to think that it had been released in true viral form--not even the Order was deranged enough to develop something of that magnitude of stupidity--but he could think of no other reason that three mutants would suddenly experience a loss of control in their abilities. This could be a prelude to something much worse: the return of their powers, still without control. If this was some form of incubation period, than Slate firmly wished to be in the DocProf's infirmary before it ended. His own healing would be useless in this situation, even if it had been working.
"Please," he added, in case the man might be reconsidering his offer to drive them. Reaching an arm behind Calley, he tried to set a settling arm on the bug shifter's shoulder. That 'please' was just as much for her as it was for their unwitting chauffeur.
Calley, meanwhile, suddenly realized that there was a bow behind him. Complete with arrows. With a skittering grab, he took it down, and shoved the whole bundle at the hunter. "Keep this away from her. Please. And the under-the-seat gun, too." His caught a glint off the floor. "...Are those handcuffs?"
Man with bow, arrows, hidden gun, and handcuffs. Man alone in the middle of nowhere. Teenagers alone with man with gun and handcuffs. Teenagers without powers.
...Calley's mouth twitched into its habitual smile as his eyes flashed back up to the man. Huh. Huuuuh. If you ask a serial killer if he's a serial killer, does that actually help anything? If he wasn't stuck between a body snatcher and a bug girl, Calley might have made a break for it, blanket and all. Bambie back there would have loved to come with him, but Bambie back there was already dead.
The trip home had gotten off to a bad start and it was quickly getting worse. A moment after Jacen asked where they were headed, someone apparently found his gun and decided to play with it.
BANG!
"WHAT THE HELL?!" Jacen yelled as he slammed on the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a sudden stop once more even as he spun around to face whoever was now holding his precious weapon. Moving with the speed and skill that only the military and S.W.A.T. can provide, he grabbed her arm and pulled her forward, plucking the weapon from her grasp before giving her a slight push back into her seat.
"Don't.... touch... anything..." Jacen said quietly, his eyes never leaving the girls while his hands quickly ran over the weapon, ejecting the clip as well as the cartridge that was in the chamber with practiced moved.
"Do you know where Xavier's Sister School for Talented Youngsters is? It is a bit far, but it might be wise to take us there. It seems that all three of our powers are malfunctioning... Please." The articulate boy spoke up as Jacen opened his glove box and put the weapon inside before locking it securely. That made perfect sense and explained why the three acted so weird... they were mutants. Didn't all mutants act just a little wierd? In fact... Jacen remembered reading an inter-department memo at some point that had suggested that the X-Gene actually caused varying degrees of psychosis. Yep... this made perfect sense.
"Yeah, I know where it is." Jacen replied, shooting Pix one last glare before turning around and beginning to move the truck forward once more.
"Keep this away from her. Please. And the under-the-seat gun, too." The skittish boy spoke up as he grabbed Jacen's bow and arrows and shoved them toward the front seat, "...Are those handcuffs?"
Grabbing the bow and arrows, Jacen set them in the front seat, treating them with a reverence that only a fellow hunter could understand. Even though it was a weapon, the recurve bow was still a thing of beauty and craftsmanship that not just anyone could appreciate. In fact, Jacen was pretty sure that all of that beauty was lost on his three passengers.
"Yes... those are handcuffs." Jacen replied evenly, continually glancing back in his rear-view mirror to check on his three passengers and keep a close eye on them. "They're real... not toys... so leave them alone."
Right then the truck hit a large dip in the road, that shook things up for a moment and with a slight splat sound the deer's head was suddenly resting against the rear glass, just above Calley's shoulder. As Jacen glanced back he saw the dead deer, with its tongue stuck out still in apparent laughter.
"I'm glad someone is enjoying this..." Jacen muttered to himself under his breath, "Next time... I leave the head in the woods."
Pix sat back with gun in hand and looked forward at their driver. “Um….” Petunia looked up innocent as can be with the gun held between her hands when Mr. Hunter dude turned in his seat and roughly yanked her forward. “Hey!” She namaged to cough out beore he so rudely shoved her back into the seat.
"Don't.... touch... anything..."
Riiiiggghht…. Petunia eyed the bow behind them just as twitchy grabbed for it and pushed it into the front seat as well… “Spoils sport.” Petunia grumbled as she looked down at her feet while Slate and Mr. hunter had their conversaions. It was then that something shiny caught her eye…
"...Are those handcuffs?"
Now there was an idea…. Petunia looked from the hand cuff to Calley. To the hand cuffs to calley…. To the hand cuffs…. Oh the temptation was too much.
Without so much as heeding the hunter’s warnings, or even really caring, Petunia lunged for the handcuffs with her left hand. Her right shoved at Calley and poked and dug with her fingers that posibly tried to drag Calley's hand towards her mouth for possible biting. till she had a hold of one cuff, and that cuff just happened to hook around Calley’s ankle and that other cuff was….
Posted by Cheshire on Feb 14, 2009 18:58:36 GMT -6
Mutant God
3,233
18
Sept 24, 2018 19:41:05 GMT -6
Calley
...ON THE WAY TO PIX'S ANKLE! Ha! That would show her!
--Oh. Right.
Calley noticed a third hand coming towards the floor, calmly grasping and removing a vital part of this affair from the floor battle's geography. "Slate, did you just take the key--GAH!"
Black eyes, clouding over subtly with each second that passed, stared blinking through lids that could not close. A purple-pink tongue, swelling, pressed against the glass, too wind-blown to leave the expected spit mark. Short cream and white fur rustled and waved in the wind. Calley was staring at the visage of himself, in deerly death form. And it was staring back.
The key to the handcuffs, folded neatly into Slate's palm, slipped under the folds of the blanket for safe-keeping. His inner eye held visions of it being thrown out the window by certain short-sighted individuals, or swallowed, or being used to put at eye out. In his hand, it was safe until they reached their destination. Until then: he did not foresee much ill coming from limiting their motions.
"I do not believe I caught your name, Sir," the eighteen year old began; "Mine is Slate. My brother here," he said it like others would say 'unfortunately', "is Calley." And this, in a likewise unfortunate manner, was going to be a long drive. The backwaters of Pennsylvania and New York City were generally not geographical bedfellows.
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