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.
Allison had gotten into a relatively consistent schedule in the previous months. Getting to work at the same early time every morning meant waking up at the same time, and that meant going to sleep at the same time, and that didn’t leave much room for variance in anything else. At least, not anything else that Allison actually did, on a regular basis. That didn’t bother her; having something to do and a reason to go to sleep at a consistently early time was generally a good thing.
On the other hand, being fired (or resigning, on threat of arrest) from work left Allison with a significantly more flexible sleep schedule. And that meant quickly staying up later, and that meant thinking, and that meant a whole flood of thoughts and emotions that Allison didn’t really want to deal with. What ifs and possibilities, daydreams she’d never believed in but always wanted to, goals she’d never had but now thought (knew) might (would) have made life easier. And the doubts. She wasn’t accomplishing anything with this stubbornness, wasn’t even living up to average, much less her potential, wouldn’t ever be enough to matter, wouldn’t make a difference, should just give up and go back home; they’d forgive her, they didn’t have a choice, they’d let her come back and she could fall back into that cosy soft (muzzling) life she’d been meant for. She couldn’t succeed outside of it anyway; better to succeed at something not ideal than nothing.
Yes, Allison definitely hated the doubts.
But without work to go to every morning, without a reason to go to sleep, Allison stayed up, and staying up in a building full of people sleeping meant not many options for distraction, and that meant Allison started thinking. So it didn’t take long for Allison to start slipping out at sunset, face and fingers decorated in black and acid green, expression set in something that might have been blank if her eyes hadn’t felt like fire. Once outside, she’d walk, exploring the area around Sanctuary. Neighborhoods she knew weren’t good, that she had treated with constant wariness for months in the daylight, became alluring; danger stopped meaning risk and started meaning thrill, fight and attack stopped meaning pain and began meaning a chance at something to do that she could pretend might matter. (She pretended she wouldn’t lose.)
After a couple nights of slipping (she wasn’t, yet, thrown out of her mind enough to do anything that might be described as prowling or stalking) through the alleys and sidestreets with nothing happening, Allison’s confidence grew, the remaining fear (reason) diminished and the thrill grew. So it wasn’t at all a surprise that she might be outside, wandering down an empty, broken street at midnight, looking for something she pretended she didn’t know enough about to know she could never find there.
Two lone bodies stood together, sharing a quiet moment to feed their addictions together as buddies. As team mates. One puffed at his smoke, while the other had finished his, and was flicking the butt away into the street.
She watched them walk, not through eyes of her own, but through the voices of her children. Tidbits of information on where they were going, how fast they were moving, and what was being said. As of yet, they hadn't made a single deal. No one apparently wanted to buy anything tonight, and that did not bode will for her.
This was her second attempt. Her chance at redemption... for the last time she had royally screwed up. Megan could not afford to fail this time, or she would very well have to admit defeat. And she hated giving in. From a few blocks away, she sat and waited. Her kids were keeping an eye on her targets, making sure that they were headed along the usual path. The route she had seen them take a few times before, the previous night. While she was struggling to keep the silk she had laid down from bunching in places, she heard whispered that they two men had successfully traded someone a small baggy of something, for cash. She grinned behind the stuffy ski mask she was wearing, and stood from her work. She only had a little while before they would arrive and she could spring her makeshift trap... she needed to be in position and ready.
Before long, her patient impatiences was rewarded. The two were within sight, sauntering calmly down the sidewalk. She hunkered down on the roof of the building they were passing, waiting for the exact moment when they were strolling past, to grip a length of silk in her hands and take a running leap off of the roof. Her rope was looped up over the neck of a nearby street lamp, which provided her singing leverage. Her trap had been set up so that upon jumping from the roof, she would pull on the silk and the net of web on the sidewalk be yanked up to cover and capture the dealers. Honestly... it sounded perfect in her head. She realized on the way down, when her line snapped taught and her grip was jerked a foot and a half down thanks to her own body weight, that it was more of a plan Wily E. Coyote would have been proud of... The line wrapped around her leg, sticking to her and itself, and it was torn from her grip, as gravity laughed and rudely reminded her if it's existence. She wound up hanging upside down, snagged in her own web from thigh to knee, staring blankly at the two rather startled looking drug dealers.
They followed the silk line with their eyes, finally noticing the thin silk underfoot, and speared her with angry, unbelieving looks. Had someone really just tried to snag them in giant snare net? Yes. The answer was doubtfully yes. One, who's heavy assortment of tattoo's and piercings were covered up with a pull over coat and a beanie, strode forward and popped her easily in the face. It was stupidly easy, he found out, to knock the masked person unconscious. Before they could question each other on what had just happened, and what they were supposed to do with the person who had just attacked them, they heard approaching footsteps and turned. A lone girl had stumbled up upon them. Normally, not a terrible thing. She was cute, even. But since they had some masked kook to deal with, they couldn't very leave any possible witnesses wandering around. The tattooed man his chin toward the girl, and his buddy started toward her, cracking his knuckles as he went.
~ An hour later, Megan awoke with a start. It felt like there was a massive knot on her forehead... and her hands were tied together behind her back. Before she could so much as glimpse her surroundings, someone gripped the top of her mask and pulled. Bleached hair fluffed out everywhere, black roots and all. She blinked icy eyes, wincing slightly as bright light blinded her. She was in a room... there was some other person next to her. A girl, she noticed, as her eyes adjusted to the flood lamps lighting the small room.
"Well well... another girly. We could fetch a great price on the market with these you, I bet." She jerked her attention away from the female at her side, to the man who has unmasked her, and scowled at him. "F***off, tubby." Her response earned a chuckle, and the man stepped away from her, turning to march over to a lengthy table and a few chairs set up against one wall. Aside from it and the lamps, the room was fairly empty.
"What do you say we test out the merchandise?" The other suggested, a sneer curling his lips. He was the tattooed one. Dragons and waves painted over arms and back, up neck and down chest. Megan twitched, and patted her back pocket for her stun gun.... of course, it had been confiscated. She could still hear her children... though faintly. It would take some time for them to zoom in on her position, wherever that happened to be. Until then... she was more or less down for the count. Her knife was tucked in her boot, unfortunately out of reach with two sets of eyes on her. She could do little more than sit and wait.
'Tubby' as she had named him, dropped Megan's mask and turned back, eyes landing on the other girl in the room. She was younger, and far prettier in many aspects. Crossing the room, he knelt before her and reached out with sausage like fingers to grasp her chin. "This one's mine. You can have the gutter punk over there, she's more your style anyway..."
It was a commonly known fact, among those that knew Allison at least, that Allison did not have much of a temper. Instead, she had a lot of patience, a weird sense of humor, and a very slight temper that was rarely seen, but both scary and impossible to predict. The patience was arguable, the humor was probably true.
The temper, on the other hand, was completely inaccurate. Allison’s temper was easily provoked. It was also automatically hidden, as she’d been taught as a child never to show negativity. As a result, while she could mimic an angry expression well enough, her default expression when angry was a blank expression, progressing to a small smile as anger shifted into rage.
Allison had, while wandering the neighborhoods she knew were dangerous, finally stumbled into danger. Very odd looking and confusing danger, but danger nonetheless. Allison, without any idea why, had been caught, tied, and dragged stumbling down the streets, into a basement, and into a small, mostly bare room, left next to an unconscious girl in a ski mask and web. The girl had woken up, the ski mask was removed, and the men who’d brought her and the other girl to the room were... talking. About things that Allison wasn’t going to bother contemplating because there was no point in contemplating what she wasn’t allowing to happen.
It was a commonly known fact, among those few who knew Allison well, that when Allison smiled without being happy, nothing good followed. Allison had been smiling for quite a while now. She thought the smile, and the matching silence, might have unnerved them a bit, but neither commented on it. Her thoughts were focused into a kind of ready to spring state; sights and sounds were tuned down to a level she was only half aware of, but could probably recall the general idea of well enough if needed. Logic wasn’t fully active either; logic would have had her explaining who her family was, how the hunt they’d force the police into for her wasn’t worth anything any market could pay. Even if she was pretty sure that wouldn’t actually be the case, it would be an easy enough one to convince them of. She wasn’t saying anything, though; she hadn’t thought of it.
Reactions, on the other hand, were ready, maybe a little better than normal since they weren’t slowed by the eternal thought-counterthought-new option-new idea-start decision over process she was normally in. Instead, events progressed like bullet points, with no differentiation between hers and others’ actions, or between ideal and incorrect choices.
Suggestions were made.
Ski mask girl reacted.
More suggestions were made.
Fingers touched her face, grasping with enough pressure that it could have hurt if Allison hadn’t been so used to the pain ink caused going through skin. The man holding Allison’s face stopped speaking.
Allison slammed her head into the man’s nose.
The man howled.
A fist hit the side of Allison’s face.
Allison fell onto ski mask girl’s legs.
Allison rolled back, over her own head onto her knees.
Her weight could have been painful for ski mask girl, but that thought didn’t occur to her until she was on her feet, hands still stuck behind her and expression blank except for a teeth-baring smile.
“I dare you.”
Logic would have been screaming frantically, if it hadn’t been suffocated under the rage resulting from the frustration of twenty one years’ worth of helplessness. Flood lights made very fitting battle scenes, Allison thought; light and dark warring in equal intensity.
Having someones forehead rammed into the boney part of your nose was never a way to start off an introduction. However vile of an introduction it was intended to be. The man swore, reeling back with a hand to his face as the girl pushed herself out of the way and into a new, comfortable position on the other side of the masked woman.
Megan watched quietly, her lips curved a tiny fraction. It had been a solid hit! Cartilage and bone had been violently separated. Blood leaked out from between Tubby's fingers, and he turned and joined his comrade by the table to find something to staunch the flow with. Tattoo let out a bark of laughter at the girls antics. "That's the spirit! I love it when they act tough.... Go tend to your wounds, Terry. This one's all mine..."
Megan leaned away from the girl at her side, drawing one leg up to rest against her chest. Her spiders were closer, creeping into the building through various cracks and crevices on the upper floors, but she would still need time for them to get close enough to help her. She also needed the men folk to be distracted enough not to notice the twenty jumping spiders that would be scurrying down the wall behind her.
"Hell no! That B***h is mine!" Tubby started toward her also, neither man heeding the threat she had spoken. Both were far too pig headed to listen to a small girl, however venomous her words had been. "Heck no!" Tattoo swung around to face Terry. A short, annoying argument broke loose, in which neither man was willing to give up his claim on the girl. The spider queen eyed the piece of meat at the center of the argument, and wrinkled her nose in disdain. Men... how disgusting.
"There's enough of her to go around... right?" Megan butted in, her words veiled with a sickly honey. She didn't realize that she inadvertently broke up what was to become a boxing match of a fight, until both men halted the argument in order to listen to her. She inwardly swore, cursing under her breath when the attention suddenly shifted fully her way, two pairs of empty sociopath eyes digging into her, as if they had just remembered that she was present.
Tubby chuckled first, breaking the staring spell. "This one's funny..." He sighed, wiping his bloody nose again with a bandana he had found. "Fine... you can have the feisty one first. I'll take this one for now..." Tattoo beelined toward the other girl, and Tubby headed Megan's way. She swore again, and lifted the leg she had tucked up against her chest. She should have just kept her lips zipped, and let them duke it out. The heavy heel of her boot crashed straight into Tubby's left kneecap as he approached. It shifted and cracked, and the man buckled as it gave out completely. She brought her leg back again, and aimed another swift kick straight for his suddenly accessible chin.
The man caught her around her ankle, fingers digging in painfully- even through her boot- and she was jerked forward suddenly. The back of her head bounced against the pavement, and a shadow loomed over her. A moment later, a heavy fist connected solidly with her jaw. She saw stars, and temporarily lost track of what was happening...
Allison smirked at the blood flowing down the man’s face. The adrenaline was calming a tiny bit, enough for her to realize that angering the man was probably not the best idea. And daring them both was definitely not. That didn’t stop her smirk from spreading into a grin as the two began arguing over her. They just cared about her so much, it was almost flattering. Totally flattering, actually; also totally creepy, disgusting, and scary, but flattering. She did matter! And the fear, well, that was easy enough to ignore as the argument progressed quickly. Allison could recognize very well when bickering became arguing, when emotions became involved, when the goal stopped being her and began to be winning.
“Oh, as if you could handle her, anyway.”
Somewhere around that point, probably.
Allison kept smirking, counting her heartbeats by the pulse in the side of her face, letting the two escalate their argument as she twisted her fingers, feeling the plastic that was keeping her hands tied. Sometimes these things could be slipped off, with enough pressure, and her hands were small. She had no doubt fists would be involved in the argument soon, if not knives or guns. She could only hope it was knives; that would give them the most chance to mutually injure each other. Fists were less likely to be lethal, or even serious enough to stop them, and a gun had too much chance of stopping the argument before both (or even one, depending on how quickly it was brought out) was hurt. Now if she could just figure out the knot while, preferably, the tattooed one killed Terry, after being badly injured.
There's enough of her to go around... right?
The room abruptly seemed to freeze.
The mix of planning-triumph-adrenaline-terror-pride-panic disappeared instantly as Allison turned toward ski mask girl, smirk disappearing just as quickly, both replaced with disbelief. Had she really...?
"This one's funny. Fine... you can have the feisty one first. I'll take this one for now..."
Yes. Yes, apparently, she had. Shock shifted back into a very, very tiny smile, aimed directly at ski mask girl. The man approaching her was ignored completely. Ordinarily, ski mask girl’s rather successful kick would have gotten at least an approving smirk from Allison, if not outright cheering, but now... no. No, this time Allison’s smirk was found when ski mask girl was punched in the face.
Anything after that was lost as there was abruptly a hand around her own neck. “Don’t bother trying any of your tricks on me, girl. They only work once.” Not choking, yet, but definitely threatening to. Allison’s focus snapped back to the tattooed man, and her expression finally caught up to her situation enough for her eyes to go wide, smile falling away. He smirked. “Finally getting the idea, girlie?”
Allison blinked and slammed her knee into him before she could really think about it.
Maybe the bullet point mindset wasn’t entirely gone yet.
He, too, swore, but unfortunately kept his grip on her neck, pushing her down until she was kneeling on the floor, head bent back and gasping. Okay, yeah, choking had definitely been an the threat list there.
“Apparently you don’t get it, girl, so I’ll explain. Either you cooperate, or you get hurt. Either way I get what I want. Simple enough?”
The hand on Allison’s neck loosened enough for her to gasp in a breath. “Yeah.” Very, very simple. Exactly as simple as it had been before. Two letters simple, in fact. Or possibly two words. No. You’re wrong. Option three.
Allison had never enjoyed being helpless. She’d hated being small, being weak, having a mutation that was useless for anything other than decoration. With no other options, though, and political environments, she’d at least gotten really good at learning to bluff. And hating the necessity wasn’t enough to stop her from using that particular ability.
Allison grabbed every bit of ink in her range that wasn’t already in her own skin and tore it out of where it had been, up into the air above her head.
That... was a lot more ink than she was used to. It was also clearly a lot more pain than the no longer tattooed man was used to. This time he let go of her as he howled and jumped back. “Mutant!”
God... now her face hurt. Blinking back tiny tears from the good whack to the jaw she had received, she use the momentary distraction of the other girl's show of power to her advantage. With her back on the floor, she tucked her leg up and was able to reach the knife in her boot. The blade sliced easily through her bindings with a little pressure, and she immediately rolled over and lunged for the other girls bound hands.
"Two mutants...!" She corrected, and let fly a silent command for her children to wage war on the two men in the room with them. Her arachnids had managed to squeeze themselves into the room, sticking to the shadows along the walls. As one, the twenty black bodies dropped down onto the men folk below, hanging from silken lines. Their sudden appearance caught Tattoo by surprise, and he jumped back a little ways away... but Tubby didn't much care about spiders.
He ignored the mix of widows and jumpers, and latched onto one of Megan's ankles. The large man straightened, lifting her by the leg, and promptly starting dragging her away. Her blade cut the girls bindings easily, but she could do little more to help her. "Keep em' separated! Joe! Hey Joe, get in here!" Tubby half turned, shouting back toward the door of the room. Apperantly there was another with them, and he was somewhere outside. Megan pulled herself back around, and slashed at the hand gripping her leg. The man hissed, snatching his hand away, but the damage had been done. Her knife had left a good sized gash, and blood was already running in small streams down his arm.
The twenty five year old clambered back on all fours, before she found her footing and got to her feet. Her stun gun was across the room, on the table... but she had a chance to make a run for it...
So she did.
She shot past Tubby, who was distracted still by his wound, and circled behind Tattoo, earning his attention briefly in the process.
Allison blinked and froze for a moment as her mind attempted to catch up. The formerly tattooed guy was backing up, reaching for a pocket, ski mask girl was reaching for her boot, and Terry was by ski mask girl, ignoring her to look at Allison. Okay, bad. The door was on the other side of all three of them, worse. Allison still had her hands tied and lots of ink hovering over her. Worse again and neutral. She supposed she could drag the ink through the mens’ skin if she had to, though she wouldn’t have the surprise advantage anymore, and they were likely to be more pain resistant than average. Ski mask girl got a knife out of her boot just after the formerly tattooed guy pulled a much larger one out of his pocket. Allison had to get to that door.
"Two mutants!"
And then things were back to bullet points.
Spiders fell from the ceiling, ski mask girl’s hands were free, Allison froze, formerly tattooed guy jumped farther back, Terry grabbed ski mask girl, Allison’s hands were free, Terry pulled ski mask girl away, Allison’s hands automatically flew up, holding the ink in place.
"Keep em' separated! Joe! Hey Joe, get in here!"
Allison could deal with separated.
Terry’s hand was cut, the door opened, Allison started moving toward the wall she had spent an hour leaning against, ink floated above her in a blend of dark mud brown, ski mask girl was up again, Allison was by the side wall and a third of the way to the door, a man was halfway through the door, the man looked confused, ski mask girl was running not toward the door.
What.
Allison growled, turned back, splashed ink into Terry’s eyes as she passed him just in case, Joe was in the room and the door was shut, the formerly tattooed guy had noticed ski mask girl, Allison felt surrounded, Terry was swearing but stumbling back toward the wall, formerly tattooed guy reached for ski mask girl, his own knife in his other hand, Joe was moving toward Terry, good. Allison jumped for the formerly tattooed guy, aiming to the side of ski mask girl so she could punch him in the face whether he managed to grab ski mask girl or not.
Fists were much more useful than ink for fighting, but Allison kept the ink floating above her head anyway. Just in case.
She just managed to reach out and snatch her stun gun back, when a hand latched into the hood of her coat and she was yanked backwards sharply. The twenty five year old toppled, landing flat on her back with an Oof. It was then that she spotted Tattoo... who no longer lived up to his namesake, and the massive Crocodile Dundee blade he was wielding.
Her stomach twisted for a moment as it glinted in the light, and she reacted on instinct. The spider queen swiftly turned, her stun gun gripped firmly in her palm, and slammed the weapon into the mans thigh. He yelped, dropping to a knee, and she attempted to scoot away from him and his wicked blade.
Joe, who was relatively new to the room, was having a hard time sorting everything out. One man was cussing up a storm and bleeding all over the place while wiping at his eyes with his good hand, and the other was... being electrocuted, and then he was knocked completely from his feet when the other, smaller, girl sent her fist crashing into his face.
A vein in his head throbbed as his temper flared. Two grown ass men were being thwarted by some twig of a girl, and some freaky chick in black? It didn't compute. He was going to have to give them an earful later, after he fixed the situation. "That the %$#& is this?" He reached out and grabbed Terri by the front of the shirt, and none to gently shoved him out of the way. With the.. -what was that, ink?-... in his eyes, he was more than useless for the time being.
He swatted a few spiders out of his way, not noticing when a few found purchase on him. "You two are more trouble than you're worth..." He growled, and pulled his arm back. With one swing, as if he were swatting the air before him with the palm of his hand, he sent a massive wave of force crashing toward the two females.
Megan had been about to kick the downed, tattooless man in the face again, when the wave hit her and she was sent flying across the floor. She crashed into the wall behind, curling in on herself when Tattoo came crashing on top of her. 'Sh*t, he was a mutant too!' It figured... She cursed wildly, making sure to press her stun gun into the back of tattoo's neck for a good measure... just to make sure he'd be out of the fight, then scrambled along the wall to try and escape the next wave Joe was going to send at them.
Punching the formerly tattooed guy in the face was immensely satisfying, even more so when he fell. Fear was thoroughly replaced with adrenaline again, and Allison smirked, ignoring the newest man’s shout. Which was probably stupid, but oh well, she was feeling triumphant. They’d gotten Terry and the formerly tattooed guy both already, they could deal with one new guy. She straightened, smirking down at the formerly tattooed guy. And then was somehow thrown face first into a wall.
(Allison was raised willing to give in on most things, but stubborn as water in others.)
...Ow....
(She’d try, and if she failed, she’d try another way, and if there was no way, she’d wait and make one.)
That... was not a whimper. It was just a high pitched, pained noise. Allison nonetheless felt a lot less triumphant and a lot more headachy and bruised as she pushed back from the wall, twisting to sit with her back against it. Ski mask girl was next to her again while Joe glared at them. Formerly tattooed guy went limp, and ski mask girl was scrambling away. Allison was hit by a much stronger flood of deja vu than was really called for, and along with it, anger.
(Allison knew how to wait forever, but not how to quit.)
Or more accurately, fury.
(Allison’s parents would have been very pleased at her persistence, if only it had attached itself to logical things.)
Allison had just been feeling confident. Triumphant, capable, successful even. And then this... interloper, had to invade and take all of it away again. Allison ignored ski mask girl’s scrambling away, formerly tattooed guy limp on the ground (dead? Not dead? She didn’t know which she hoped for), and Terry off to the side. Instead she pushed herself up, carefully keeping her back against the wall until she was standing against it, glaring back at Joe.
(Instead, it attached itself to emotions, especially to the feeling that something was fundamentally wrong, and not allowed to happen.)
He couldn’t push her through the wall.
(High school hadn’t gone perfectly. Many people had thought her mutation was cool.)
“I dare you.”
(Some had thought it was disgusting. Allison ignored them.)
She hoped he couldn’t, anyway.
(Except once, she had to pay attention, because she couldn’t run from them.)
The next wave of force crushed her against the wall, made her cough and cringe but stay standing.
(Not in school, not when she knew anyone around her might also be a mutant, in secret, wondering what that made them worth.)
The wall was still standing.
(Allison’s mutation couldn’t make her pretty, powerful, or special. It couldn’t make her anything but a target.)
Allison gasped, coughing again before straightening, back still against the wall, ink swirling above her. The corners of her eyes felt wet, and the glare was strained by the hysterical smile that was trying to break through.
(But Allison’s mutation could make her visible, in a school of humans and pretend humans, and a hopeful catalyst in a mixed-up flow of acceptance, change, hate, and secrets. It could make sure that when she got hit, everyone knew why. So than when she stood back up and got hit and stood up again and didn't hit back, everyone saw.)
Allison grinned at Joe, almost laughing, almost crying, only half seeing the present. “I dare you.”
(I dare you. Just try and kill me. It won’t work. You can’t stop the future. I dare you.)
Inadvertently, since he had already hit the other girl with another wave of force, he turned toward Megan. Her scrambling ended with her in a corner, back to the all, staring down a very angry tubby man, who had managed to hastily wrap his wound up and clean his eyes enough to see.
Joe lifted his arm like he was going to throw a fast pitch ball at her, and she flinched visibly. The force from the swing hit her like a brick wall, slamming her into the wall hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs. She felt like she was being pressed, squished rather, into the drywall. When it relented, she nearly fell over.
Gods... how were they supposed to fight someone like that?!
Tubby stalked forward after the wave had hit her, and swatted her hand away as she feebly attempted to swing her knife at him. The blade clattered across the floor, bumping gently into the other girls feet. "You little b@$%#!"
She didn't have the time to try and bring her stun gun up also, and ended up taking a full force backhand across the face. It was strong enough to knock her silly. "Screw selling them, Joe. I say we chop them up into small enough pieces that we won't even have to bury them!"
With a wince, she pushed herself back up against the wall. 'Bite!' Went out the silent command. The spiders within the room organized into small groups and skittered toward whoever was close to them. Joe flinched and swatted at himself as a widow and two jumping spiders sank their fangs in. It served as a minor distraction as a soft, burning pain set in. Not enough to kill him, or really slow him down... but it was enough that he ceased his spree of force attacks. Tubby didn't even notice a few spiders that had started to crawl up his leg. He was too busy hoisting Megan up by the collar of her shirt. "You P#@$%* off the wrong men, Missy. You should have just been a good little girl."
Megan laughed in his face, possibly a little delirious from the hits about her head and getting tossed around by Joe, and hawked a small wad of sticky silk into his face. It splattered across his nose and left eye, and he dropped her. Given his injured hand, he didn't have the strength to rip the sticky mess off. "You... should have just left me out on the street..." As the guy staggered away, she lurched forward and buried her stun gun straight into his stomach...
Joe saw her move, and reared an arm back to send another force wave at her, taking his attention off of the other girl entirely.
Allison kept staring, blankly, at Joe as he attacked the other girl. He’d attacked, that was an obvious gesture to accompany it, but it hadn’t hurt. How odd. Did she remember that from last time? It seemed familiar, but everything seemed familiar now, and she was pretty sure the people at least weren’t, they looked too old.
(...and kill me....)
Terry was moving toward the other girl. Oh, that was why. She wasn’t the only one this time. Someone was with her.
(It won’t work....)
In the corner of her eye Joe turned toward the other girl as well, and Terry hit her hand away.
(You can’t stop....)
Something tapped Allison’s foot.
(...the future.)
Allison blinked.
A knife.
There hadn’t been a knife before. This wasn’t before. Ski mask girl wasn’t with her. Or she was, but she shouldn’t be. She shouldn’t be hurt, anyway.
"Screw selling them, Joe. I say we chop them up into small enough pieces that we won't even have to bury them!"
Allison crouched down, quietly, tiredly, keeping her eyes and hysterical smile on Joe, and reached for the knife.
"You P#@$%* off the wrong men, Missy. You should have just been a good little girl."
Got it. The knife was warm, and small, easy enough for Allison to shift and hide behind her palm and wrist. Not useful, dangerous held that way, but invisible. Joe wasn’t looking anyway, it seemed.
"You... should have just left me out on the street..."
Ski mask girl spit on Terry, Terry stumbled back, Joe began another attack. Allison stood up and walked toward Joe; calmly, not slow or fast, just as if she was walking to a meeting or through a mall, smiling. Ink splashed down behind her, only small wisps still swirling over her head as she lost focus on it.
Joe’s attack flew toward ski mask girl, then a second, and then Allison was next to him, knife turned near unconsciously in her hand to make it useful. “Hi,” she whispered, and he turned.
Allison didn’t aim for the neck, the temples, any lethal spot she knew of. The body had a way of making lethal spots difficult to reach. Other spots, far less lethal but more painful and distracting, were much easier. The knife cut through an eye, then over his nose as he managed to blast her away, throwing her back and sending the knife flying off to the side again as he howled.
Allison was laughing when she landed, immediately rolling back over and pushing herself up onto her knees, grinning up at Joe. “I dare you.” The tone was cheerful, sing-song, triumphant.
Joe probably didn’t hear. He was a little focused on that eye she’d cut in half.
Tubby finally fell over, too shocked by the electrodes in his belly to stay on his feet while blinded. Megan didn't have a moment to gloat or attack further, however. Joe sent another wave flying her way, which hit her harder than the last. She smacked into the wall, grunting from the pain, and dropped to her knees. The second wave hit her and she could only curl into herself to try and avoid more damage.
Then... the other girl attacked.
Megan might have been shocked, or a little perturbed by the look on the girl face... had she seen it. She didn't though. She was in the process of curling into a tighter ball, fully expecting another terrible wave of pain.
... but it never came.
She peeked out from under her arm, muscles complaining as she dropped them from protectively shielding her head. Everything ached, she didn't want to move... but she had to. Joe was staggering away, one hand slapped to his face. Blood was gushing out from between his fingers.
She spied her knife in the girls hands, and a crooked smile curled her lips.
It looked as though the fight was turning in a more manageable direction. She pushed herself back to her feet, struggling as her legs protested under her own weight. Quite a few colorful swear words spilled past her lips, but she made it. Tubby was on the ground, still trying to pry her silk from his skin. She readied her stun gun and staggered over to him. There weren't words that she could say to adequately explain her feelings, so instead, she simply planted a foot on either side of his waist and leaned over. "Come." One quiet word, and her children rallied to her. Megan planted her weapon into the flesh of his stomach a second time, sending a jolt through his body. She curled a finger in the belt loop of his pants, and ordered her spiders to pile inside. He would regret being a complete a**wipe for the rest of his life.
The spiders sent him into a blind panic, but the damage was done before he could do anything to stop it. Fifteen sets of fangs sank into tender flesh wherever they found purchase, and Megan stepped away with a grin. He'd have to learn to live the rest of his life peeing out of a tube, if she knew her venom as well as she did. A dozen or more widow and wolf spider bites were more than enough to render his male parts useless, if not make them fall off entirely.
Joe, unlike Terri, was still mobile. And very, very angry. One eye was useless, yes, but it only served to make him a tad bit desperate and irrational. "@^&#%$*!" He reared his arm back, turning to face the girl who has wounded him. Megan, from her spot by the wall, pushed off and launched herself at the man. Her own weapon slammed into his ribs, just under his raised arm. A zap of electricity straight to the chest dropped him to his knees, and she used her body weight to knock him over.
"Get the knife!" A weak struggle ensued, a pitiful wrestling match between her and the guy. She was tired and strained, her body still aching from his many attacks. He was still recovering from the stun gun, and blood was pooling into his good eye.
Allison smiled calmly, still kneeling as she watched ski mask girl summon spiders into Terry’s pants. She didn’t know what spiders they were, but none had attacked her yet, and she doubted many simultaneous bites from any kind of spider would be much good for Terry, even if he got to a hospital immediately. Which she doubted. She hummed quietly, not quite a tune but still thoroughly pleased.
Ski mask girl’s sudden lunge across the room confused Allison, until her mind caught up and informed her that the shout had been from Joe. Angry, mutant, wounded Joe, who was probably not at all happy with her, and had just been knocked down by ski mask girl.
"Get the knife!"
Allison glanced around to find it, then pushed herself up, taking the two steps to where the knife had bounced off the wall fairly quickly, picking it up and moving back toward where ski mask girl and Joe were struggling on the ground. She paused for an instant before slamming her foot down on one of Joe’s arms, shifting her weight so it was trapped here, holding the knife loosely so ski mask girl could grab it or she could use it, whichever was needed. “So, what do we do with this one?” Allison smiled down at Joe and ski mask girl, the same smile she used when babysitting particularly young children.
She found herself suddenly in a position she wasn't used to. Megan straddled him, one knee pressed onto the other arm to keep him from flinging any more painful waves at them, the other hooked over his chest.
...what to do with him?
She honestly didn't know. What did one do with a hostage? Especially a hostage who was part of a gang of jackasses?
After a moment of quiet contemplation, she came to a grim decision. "Let's make sure him and his buddies never do this again... Yes?"
Grimly, she matched the girls smile with one of her own. Perhaps a little less hidden and a little more malicious. These men deserved what they had coming to them... and she was in the mood to provide...
Shifting her weight a little, she pressed her knee into his arm a little harder, laying one hand on the floor to keep her balance as he bucked and kicked. Injured and blind as he might have been, he could still hear perfectly well. The slur of swear words that tumbled from his lips would have left even Megan blushing, had she been listening.
In all honesty though, she had tuned him out...
What felt like an hour later, she stumbled from the room. Her hands were stained red... her knife was bloodied. She didn't know exactly how to feel about what she had just done, but in a way it felt... justified.
Running a hand through her hair, she tucked her weapons away, back into their respective places, and tucked her mask into her back pocket. She was silent... mostly because she couldn't think of what to say. She supposed though, she should at least say something.
"...Soo..." Do you horribly mutilate people often? Man... how awkward. The twenty five year old turned to face the girl.
Allison was significantly calmer, following ski mask girl out of the room. There was less blood on her, too; she’d dropped the last of the ink she’d taken from tattoo guy into Joe’s eyes and mouth fairly quickly, and mostly done her best to hold him still. Which, once you had two angry girls against one blinded man, turned out to be fairly easy. Her smile had faded a few times, mostly in favor of disgust with Joe’s existence, but by the time they left it was firmly back in place, the polite, slightly confident smile she’d learned for anything relating to business. The way she moved matched it; bruises and pain were dulled behind calm self control.
If she’d thought about it, she might have gotten upset. So she didn’t think about it. She glanced around; the room they’d been in led out to a much larger room; an unused warehouse of some kind. Presumably the room they’d been in had once been an office. A glance didn’t show anyone nearby, so Allison slipped around ski mask girl when she paused. “Out. Out of the building, out of the street first.” She didn’t bother looking at the girl as she headed toward the door. She wasn’t really that perturbed about whether she followed or not. If she got herself into more trouble.
...Okay, if ski mask girl got herself into more trouble and Allison didn’t help her, she’d feel guilty. But she was going to pretend she wouldn’t care.
Also, maybe she should stop thinking of her as ski mask girl, seeing as she wasn’t wearing a ski mask and hadn’t been for a while. “I’m Allison.”
Joe was not worth any concern. He’d earned everything they gave him and probably a lot more, too. Allison didn’t have any particular objections to being a source of karma for someone like him. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t even have to live with anything; he’d lost enough blood. Allison hadn’t been quite sure there was that much blood in a human body, though she imagined it looked like more than it actually was. Either way, it seemed a bit unlikely that Joe or Terry would be around to suffer very long. Whether that idea pleased her or not she wasn’t sure, and wasn’t willing to try to figure out.
