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.
It was Saturday morning and a thick fog covered the mansion grounds, but the mist was starting to lift and the promise of another clear, cold day hung in the air. Chris stood outside the main gate and squinted towards the big building. The fog combined with his visual defect made it hard to distinguish any details, but he was pretty sure it was the place he'd been looking for.
He wasn't very tired or hungry, he'd slept outdoors that night and after he'd woken up a pigeon had had to meet it's early demise, but his skin was very dry, on the point of cracking. The cold, moist weather had prevented any major discomforts so far, but he hadn't bathed for three days and was covered with annoyed, red rashes. Chris absently scratched the back of his hand and frowned - the longer he stood out here, the worse it would get. It was time to ring on the entry phone and present himself. He had never used one of those before, but he had seen them on TV and was pretty sure he knew how they worked. He stretched out his hand towards the button - and then paused. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all. He hesitantly withdrew his hand and sat down with his back against the wall.
At home he had felt isolated, alienated, and - he had to frown at himself for the use of the metaphor - like a big fish in a too small pond. Ever since he'd heard about this place he'd dreamed of coming here - to see new places, to learn new things, to live with people who wouldn't throw rocks at him. People who were like him.
But now, when he had endured a long and perilous journey, now when he finally was here, he started to wish that he'd never left his home. Chris buried his face in his hands and tried to deny it, but it was useless - he was already getting homesick.There was just...too much going on here. Too much cars and sounds and houses and people. True, it was calmer out here than it had been in the city, but still... In only a few days he had seen more people than he had seen in his whole life, and most of them hadn't really been friendly towards him. And the aspect of entering this big iron gate, the thought of the big building and all of the new mutants inside wasn't easy to cope with. He felt like a very, very little fish in a very big pond. Or a sea. Maybe it just... maybe it just would be better not to press that button and instead just slip away. He had survived the journey here, he would survive the journey back. The other mutant had mentioned something about a sanctuary, an all-mutant safe-house. It sure sounded safer than this big, intimidating building. Maybe he should go there instead, to rest before he started the long journey back home.
He sighed and then slowly stood up. This wouldn't do - he'd wanted to visit this place for years. The place is supposed to accept all mutants, I think... so why wouldn't they accept me? I mean, I'm a young mutant in dire need of help here, of course they just won't throw me out on the street again. And even if they do, I guess that they at least let me borrow a quick shower or something. So he put his finger on the intercom's call button, hesitated for a few seconds and pressed it... and waited for the answer.
Posted by Martin Stein on Dec 11, 2009 15:12:29 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
It was dark outside. And cold probably going by the small white patches that were beginning to form, or maybe just refusing to leave, of frost on the tops of the trees. Those at least, which he could see. It was no season for planting and growing, neither a season for clipping or mowing, this was the season where a gardener had to do the much needed mechanical maintenance his garden needed. Or maybe just a little clipping too. Clipping was desperately needed for some plants, while others had been burned, squashed, juiced, eaten or subjected to any other menace a mutants mind could conceive. It almost seemed that some of the students still held a grudge against greenery. Others on the other hand, mostly nature manipulators, tried their best to cover up the messes their cosemestres had made, and such it was his first job on every day to patrol once through the grounds to take note of any new monoliths that had suddenly appeared in one of his planting beds. Every day he might find a new surprise.
So today, after a reassuring glance at the clock, checking if it was indeed morning, he got dressed in usual working clothes and naturally put on two types of gloves, latex underneath and working gloves on top of them, to limit possible skin exposure. Ass was as usual, as he started his daily rounds, leading him to the gates first today, where he was greeted by a smell that he had not had in his nose for quite a while. Dead fish. Long dead fish. It made him think of the times when the river barge of his fathers had been driving through a stream that had been hit with an ecological disaster a few days prior. Happy memories they were. Locating the source of the perfume was quite easy. Behind the metal gates stood a raggedy looking boy, that somehow managed to give the impression that he had slept in his clothes a lot lately. And he smelt of fish. Dead fish. Long dead fish. Strongly.
Martin approached the gate with care, though as was his nature, quite silently, shoes making nearly no sound, clothes blending in with the environment. A little ghost on the perimeter of the mansion he was. Not really intentionally, but out of habit he was sneaking up of the youth, until a man in his early twens seemingly appeared out of the blue before him. “A very good day to you. How may I help you?” His voice held the harsh Germanic accent of middle-Europe and betrayed his origin of first contact with the ear. It sounded quite calm though. Almost friendly.
Chris waited for a few seconds, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. He nervously listened for an answer, but when there wasn't any immediate reaction from the intercom he started to relax. Maybe no-one was up yet, or maybe no-one was home. He felt part relieved, part disappointed. Well, at least I tried. It's not my fault if no-one's answering, right? I might as well just go back to... >>“A very good day to you. How may I help you?” He wasn't aware of the tall, dark figure in front of him until it spoke. Chris flinched, gave up a startled cry and took two quick steps backwards - the man on the other side of the gate could as well have been conjured right out of the mist, Chris hadn't heard a sound. Then he told himself to calm down and answer the stranger's question, but it wasn't easy. When he got surprised like this, he instinctively wanted to flee. People usually didn't sneak up on him unless they wanted to catch him and beat him with sticks. "I...I was just... Good day to you too," he finally managed to say. "I was just wondering if I could... This is the Xavier Sister School, right?"
While he spoke, he squinted towards the man. Chris's short-sightedness, his shades and the dark, misty weather made the tall man's face appear as a pale blur, but when Chris really tried he managed to distinguish two eyes, a mouth and something that must have been a nose in the middle of the face-smear. The fact that he couldn't tell if the man was angry or not made the situation all the more intimidating; but at least the stranger's voice had been calm. Chris quickly looked to his left and right and confirmed that the street was empty, then he reminded himself that the man was on the other side of the gate and couldn't hurt him. If he became threatening, Chris could just run away.
Posted by Martin Stein on Dec 12, 2009 8:38:38 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
The poor kid was all confused. And fishy. And in rashes that looked aggrevatedly red. Some new mutant obviously. Well. Martin sighed inside. This would be the first repeat of the instructions he had gotten after he had started to work here. How to give new kids -they might appear in any form any minute after all- a proper welcome. He'd rather had it more efficient, but he was sure the would dislike the idea of mutant processing. “This is indeed Xaviers Sisters School for gifted Youngsters. You look like you need medical attention. I will open the gate for you now.” He calmly stated. His visual acuity must be much greater then this poor kids one for him to be able to discern as much, or not? And indeed shortly after the words and a quick and equally silent disappearance of the man, the gates clinked open, to reveal a gravel driveway, that disappeared in the mist meters ahead. Everything seemed open, safe. Except maybe for the mist. What dangers might be lurking in it after all? Surely the man was still around, wasn't he? Or had he been just a...an apparition?
The boy would have time to think on these and other questions as the man was gone for a few minutes, only to appear as shadow from the fog again. “I have called the resident doctor. He will have a look at you immediately. Shall we go now?” He pointed to the gravel walkway, closing in on chris one step at a time. The gravel was crunching but ever so slightly under his steps. So no ghost then. But what was he?
>>“This is indeed Xavier's Sisters School for gifted Youngsters. You look like you need medical attention. I will open the gate for you now.” Medical...? At first Chris didn't realize what the man was talking about, but then he looked down and remembered the angry, red rashes that covered his hands. He quickly put his hands down into the front pockets of his coat. Then the other man disappeared into the mist again, presumably to go open the gates.
Chris began to calm down, and the urge to flee diminished. This place was supposed to welcome mutants in trouble, after all, and the man on the inside hadn't shouted at him to go away or something. Chris tried to place the man's heavy accent - European, probably German. Then the gates opened. Chris stood at the same spot for a moment and waited for the German guy to return, but no movement was visible in the mist inside of the walls. He shifted his weight and wondered if the man had gotten inside and was waiting there. Maybe Chris was supposed to enter on his own? He wrapped his coat closer around him and glanced one final time on the street behind him, and then hesitantly walked through the gates.
He took a few steps and then stopped, removed his sunglasses so that he could see better and looked around. The grounds were huge, and even if it was hard to see, he managed to get a more complete view of the mansion than he had when he stood outside the gate. There was still no visible movement in the mist. Well the German man had probably went insi - >>“I have called the resident doctor. He will have a look at you immediately. Shall we go now?” "Christ!!" The man had appeared right out of the mist again, and Chris was unable to contain his short, surprised cry. Then he tried to regain his composure and said: "Ah, eh, okay. Thanks, but there's really no need for that. I just need a shower." Then he realized that he hadn't presented himself and decided that he might as well get that out of the way. He wondered if he should extend his hand for a handshake, but then decided against it. The man probably didn't want to come too close to the disgusting rashes. "And, uhm, I'm Christopher Berg. Chris. Hi." It wasn't a very good presentation, but it was his first. He had practiced at home, alone, but it was much more difficult when you actually had a real person to present yourself too.
Posted by Martin Stein on Dec 13, 2009 8:16:09 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
Ah. He seemed to have been too quiet after all, going by the way, the kid reacted to his sudden reappearance. Or rather, to his sudden appearance in his visual focus. And he somehow disliked doctors it seemed. Not quite unusual, he himself had enough troubles with them... or rather their nasty tendency to touch his skin whenever possible. This one had been kind enough though to honor his request once, and afterwards they had established an uneasy peace with each other. Professional peace one could say. They seemed to be a species doomed for extinction, but somehow the world never really ran out. On the other hand, this kid really looked like he needed it. Badly. Medical attention that was, so Martins voice became soft with something that could have been understanding and sympathy, if it were not for his blue eyes remaining absolutely cold. Cold to the touch too maybe.
“Oh do not worry yourself. Our resident doctor is a true miracle worker.”
More like healing mutant, but the description was accurate enough. The kid then struggled to present himself with name and well... He did not extend his hand. For whatever reason, Martin found that a good thing. His blue eyes gaze became a little softer, less hard and icy. Friendly in a very distanced way maybe.
“I seem to have left my manners in bed this very morning. My name is Martin, I'm the resident gardener. Welcome to Xaviers Sister School for Gifted Youngsters, Chris Berg.” His wording was still crisp, efficient, as he led the boy to the entrance hall, where, in the warm and cozy atmosphere, he turned around to his new acquaintance once more. “You really do not need a doctor?”
>>“... My name is Martin, I'm the resident gardener. Welcome to Xaviers Sister School for Gifted Youngsters, Chris Berg.” Chris followed the other man, Martin, over the graveled path towards the building. When Martin announced that he was the resident gardener Chris blinked twice, dumbfounded. He'd thought that the older man - or mutant, Chris was pretty sure no normal person would have managed to sneak up on him twice - had been some kind of guard or security personnel. Somehow, when Chris thought about the word 'gardener' a picture of a short, jovial man in his early 60's with mustache, straw hat and a jolly British accent entered his mind. Even though Martin's voice wasn't unfriendly or something, Chris didn't think that anyone would associate him with a word like 'jolly.' I guess gardeners comes in all shapes and forms, just like everybody else. "...Thanks." Then he thought about Martin's choice of words: the word gifted made Chris frown a bit, though he remembered reading about Xaviers Sister School for Gifted Youngsters on the net. Back then, it had seemed so obvious that this was a place where he would belong. Right now it didn't feel that obvious. Images of young teenage mutants using their gifts briefly crossed his mind: lifting school buses that were on the verge of falling of a bridge, using telepathy to prevent crimes before they even took place, healing cancer patients with one touch. And what was his special "gifts"? Holding his breath, developing skin problems and visual defects if he was on land too long, and smelling like leftovers from the fish market. Somehow, he doubted that it really counted as gifted.
These thoughts disappeared when they entered the hall. Chris was so astonished that his jaw dropped and his big round eyes turned even bigger and rounder. Though the details still was a bit blurry, he could distinguish much more than what he had out in the mist. The room was the biggest and most luxurious one he'd ever been in, and this was no overstatement. It's color scheme was wonderful, with tints of cream and gold, and the floor under his bare feet felt like marble. It was warm and toasty - maybe a little bit too toasty for his taste, he was much more adapted to the cold, but the change from the chill weather outside was still welcome. He tried to take it all in - the massive chandelier in the roof, the classy flight of stairs, the numerous paintings on the walls (he couldn't really see the motives, but they were impressive nonetheless)...
>>“You really do not need a doctor?” The question made him snap back to reality. He decided that it would be best to try to turn down the gawking a little, it felt like he hadn't done anything besides gawking since he'd left his home. Chris turned towards Martin, and now he was close enough to see the gardeners face pretty clearly. "Yeah, my skin gets like this when I stay away from water too long. I guess you could say that it's my own special gift," he said and looked down on his hands. Then he frowned. His skin has started to crack open over his knuckles, and when he took a small step backwards he realized that the same thing were happening around his knees, armbows and shoulders. A small drop of blood slowly ran down his hand. Great. He had somehow managed to forget the stinging sensation in his skin for a while, but now it was really starting to hurt. "Altough... This has never happened before, I've never stayed out of the water as long as I have now..." he said, quite nervously. Sure, it was probably no big deal, it would probably go away away by itself if he took a shower or something. But Chris would feel a lot better if he could remove those two probablys from the sentence above. "Maybe... I should go see the doctor after all," he hesitantly admitted and felt like a jerk. Hi, I'm Chris and I've just arrived, give me medical attention or I will crack myself up on your floor. And I don't mean by laughing.
Posted by Martin Stein on Dec 27, 2009 9:34:57 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
The warm golden glow of lamps was all about him, radiating around like the warmth, physical and metaphorical, that belonged to the building like an aura, radiating from every pore. Skilled heads had take care that it was this way. Some would say it was the heartblood that flowed out from this place. He just shrugged it off, it touched him to vanish in the frosty aura of his own, that belonged to him, his second nature out in the open maybe, maybe just a mask he was wearing for today. Of course the effects had not been lost on him, so he could in some ways understand the feelings that might be coursing through the brain of the fish. If he could understand the brain of a fish at all that was. It had been that same with him. The golden warmth had touched something in him, set him on his edge, had made him guarded against what was to come. No jolly was not a word for him either. More like efficient. Now he was to lead a new youth through the hallways. Ironic in a way. In another not.
Every bit would be as was asked of him. There would be no room for complaints. As expected. But maybe not of a gardener? His steps were confident and ate away at the room quickly.
"It will be the doctor then. If you would just follow me? Everything else we will talk about after you have been...fixed" He said calmly, coldly nearly, but most certainly dispassionately, as if the boy was just another problem, equal in importance to the flowers in his garden, as he began climbing the stairs, oddly keeping his distance to the sickened youth still while now knowing about the nature of his aliments. He could obviously walk. And there were other reasons why he wasn't keen on lending the boy a hand. Everything was as always. Routine. Not? Thoughts were already mapping out the steps that would be taken after their quick visit. Everything. As. Expected.
They reached the infirmary, a place, where the smell of antiseptics mingled with the perfume of medications, creams and salves, where clean cut white curtains separated beds from sight and the doc prof had his realm. His very own little realm stocked with everything to keep a small army healthy. Not that the doctor needed such things when he used his prodigious skills on a single person, was it? But that skill had limits too. But not now.... The white clad doctor was as sharp as his ironed bedsheets spread out in military precision over the few beds of the infirmary. "Ah what do we have here?" The jovial man said as he approached the youth with a friendly smile on his lips, eyes wandering over the figure slowly and with a practiced nature that spread firm comfort. Here he was safe. Surely he was. Those eyes could not tell lies. That was what they said. "Thank you for informing me. Would you wit outside for the duration of the treatment please?" He said slightly more cool to Martin, who simply nodded. Their first encounter had been one not under the best of circumstances.
>>"It will be the doctor then. If you would just follow me? Everything else we will talk about after you have been...fixed" Chris just nodded and followed the gardener. He didn't really reflect over the distance the man was keeping too him - he was used to it and actually preferred it. He was still pretty new to the whole 'being around other people'-thing. The silence was quite discomforting, though. Not that he was a big talker himself, but... It was something concerning about Martin (he realized that he hadn't caught his last name) but Chris couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was that was disturbing him. It felt kind of like... the guy would disappear if you looked away from him from a moment, like he wasn't exactly there. But Chris wasn't overly perceptive and couldn't really put his thoughts into words, so he was left with a nagging feeling that he forgot as soon as he entered the infirmary.
Chris had never been to a hospital, had never talked to a doctor... he had never even had a physics exam. The strong, clean smell of medicaments was troubling, and the room was just too white and bright. >>"Ah what do we have here?" Chris turned his attention towards the elder man with the white coat. The doctor's voice was calm and friendly, and Chris couldn't help but feeling a bit less nervous. Mostly because the doctor seemed to be in the same age as Chris's grandfather (maybe a bit younger). >>"Thank you for informing me. Would you wit outside for the duration of the treatment please?" Martin nodded. Chris wasn't really sure what to say, so he started with presenting himself. "Hi, I'm Christopher... uhm, Chris Berg." Yeah, he was definitely getting the hang of it. Then he simply held out his both hands in front of him, a bit shyly. "It's nothing serious," he muttered. "It's just that... when my skin get too dry it gets like this, apparently. It haven't happened before, but usually I take a swim every day. Now I haven't bathed for... three days, at least." He had spent a few days in the city before he'd arrived at the mansion, mostly staying at Central Park. But there hadn't been an opportunity for a swim lately.
Posted by Martin Stein on Jan 2, 2010 6:49:42 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
The Doctor managed to offer the youth a seat on an examination table covered with a white blanket with a smile and a movement of his hands that almost swept him there. It seemed that nothing could resist the firm kindness of those experienced hands, that now, slightly cool to the touch, fingered at the red rashes, eyes locked intently on the offended skin, fingers wandering. "Hello Christopher. My name is, well I'm usually called Doc Prof. around here. Let me just try something..." The voice was warm and calm. His fingers were still searching, as a soft golden light started forming around them, a warm glow that spoke of the summer sun. Not only warm in light but also leaving a warmth behind on the skin that came after healing. The redness vanished, where he touched him, seemingly unbothered by either smell or the obvious fact, that he was otherwise unwashed.
Inside the Doctor saw, what had happened to create the rash, the thing he had already suspected. Hours, days of dryness that had reduced the fish-boys skin to nothing but an inflamed mix of cells that somehow tried to both keep their function and protect his body from the unusual dryness that sucked life and moisture our of them, reducing them to what he tried to regenerate now. To undo.
"... That is better now. I suggest you keep with regular bathing, but I'm going to give you a creme that should help your skin a little should you come to have similar problems sometime. But as long as you are here, feel free to drop in at any time." He retrieved a small white tube, not unlike the ones that toothpaste was stored in, and firmly pressed it in the hands of his young patient, giving him a clap on his soulder that was quite talkative in a way that said: Go and get settled....
And just as if called, Martins face appeared in the doorframe. He knew how efficient the doctor was. It was qust a matter of minutes to heal the easier cases. Therefore he had chosen just to fetch some papers and then return to the infirmary with speed, now just arriving back from the office. The doctor motioned him to stay outside. Which he did, naturally. The doctor was efficient. So was he. It would be the patients decision when to leave the infirmary. How many people could I put here? The thought just crossed his mind. Papers were more firmly gripped with gloved hands.
Chris wasn't completely comfortable with the examination and first shied away a bit, but when he noticed that the weird golden glow around the doctor's hands got the irritations to disappear and healed the cracks in the skin he sat still, eyes wide in amazement. He'd never encountered a healer before. What an extremely useful mutation!
It didn't take long until his skin was healed. It wasn't as if he'd taken a bath, but some of the moist had returned and the urge to scratch himself had disappeared together with the rashes and the pain. He accepted the lotion Doc Prof handed to him and put it in his pocket. "Thanks!" He kept looking down on his hands, astonished at the rate the wounds had disappeared at.
Then Martin arrived again, and Chris jumped down from the examination table. He lifted up his coat and started to walk towards the door. "Thanks a lot, uh, Doc. See you later." Before he exited the room he walked to the handbasin near the door and turned on the cold water. He quickly splashed his face with it, making sure not to close his eyes. Then he blinked a few times and dried his face with the sleeve of his shirt, walking out into the corridor. His sight immediately turned clearer, as if he'd been a short-sighted who'd put on his glasses.
He turned his head to Martin, noticing the papers that the gardener held. And now he noticed the gloves for the first time. He was a bit curious about it, both the papers and the gloves, but decided not to ask about them. "It must be great to have a doctor with such abilities," he said seriously. "I guess you save a lot on band aids." Then he hesitated; not really sure if he would ask the question. But all the other mutants he'd met earlier hadn't had any problems with talking about it, and he saw no reason why Martin would be different. "Talking about abilities..." he continued. " Earlier I couldn't help notice that... you know... you kind of seemed to appear and disappear. Like, I was looking at you and then I looked away and then you weren't there anymore when I looked back. I don't know, really. Is that your mutation? Some kind of... of.. teleportation?" Then he looked a bit worried. "You.. you are a mutant, right?" He'd been assuming that the other guy was a mutant, but he had no real proof of it. After all, it had been misty outside and his sight was far from perfect. Maybe he'd just been very quick and quiet. There was no statement that all of the staff of a mutant school had to be mutants, after all.
Posted by Martin Stein on Jan 5, 2010 11:22:02 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
As the fish boy made his little joke a thin line of a smile, bordering maybe a barring of teeth, appeared on Martins face as he silently nodded, or more correctly inclined it to the left side, slightly changing his viewpoint. Such a doctor was great indeed. Especially if... Oh well.
And then the other talk started. The talk he disliked most of all. But it was natural that young kids wanted to know. Hey I can blow up your head....HEy I can regrow it, so what other cool stuff can you do? And so on and so on. It served no real purpose but to distract from other social interaction. His power had touched his life more then most. His power had not been an ability at first. And not on second thought. His power had been dreadful from the beginning. He would not. Could not. Talk about it easily. But there was, of course things he could do.
The thin line vanished, as his head snapped upright and his body turned around to fully face the young boy. "I am indeed a mutant, though your assumptions about my abilities are false." It was more like he cleaned them off the table with a wave of his gloved hand, mind wandering again; If he had disappeared so suddenly, then he knew where his mind had wandered in his conscious absence in the garden. Back to places where hiding was imperative if you wanted to keep your mutated skin on your flesh. And quite subconsciously, as if proving a point, the sound of his steps began to fade, as he slightly bent his knees and stepped with care. His voice, now almost silent, was augmented by hand gestures that were almost forceful in their meaning."My abilities are quite dangerous, so suffice it to say, that it would be a bad thing for you to touch my skin." And then again, he straightened, turned on the spot and went through a door in a deserted classroom -equipment modern, almost high tech, littered this class, that was usually reserved for English teaching. There were a few computers around and the chairs looked comfortable. "Since I lack an office, Id like you to..." He lifted them up as if he were doing show and tell " fill out these forms for me. Afterward you will be assigned a room. With a shower." The calmness was back. Coldly.
"...I see." Okay, so maybe not all mutants liked to talk about their mutations. Martin clearly didn't. Chris felt a bit stupid for bringing it up - maybe there was some kind of mutant faux pas, maybe it was impolite to ask about other people's mutations. Or maybe Martin didn't feel like talking about himself with the new mutant kid. Sure, if Martin didn't want to talk about it Chris wasn't going to ask. He was still a bit curious, though, and couldn't help wondering what it could be when he followed Martin into the classroom. Maybe he could hurt or kill people just bu touching them? That would certainly explain the gloves.
Chris accepted the forms and sat down with them. He leafed through them, not really sure what they were for, and then he started to fill them in. Name, age, gender, ID number... He wrote it down as quick as it could to get it over with as soon as possible. The paper work was quite boring, and he was itching to see his new room. A room. With a shower. The aspect was a bit dizzyingly. He hadn't expected an own room. He wasn't really sure what he had expected, but surely not that. When he was down he pushed the papers to Martin. "Done." Maybe he was imagining it, but didn't Martin appear to be a bit... colder than he had been before? Probably just imagination.
Posted by Martin Stein on Jan 17, 2010 10:57:54 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
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Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
Martins face remained calm and serene, so much unlike any 20 year olds that ran around this house. Calm and focused as he was he would help the young boy where need be, pointing here and there until all Is were dotted and the signature of the youth was finally set in blue ink on the last page. It was not much that was asked here, but the forms were essential for the teachers. Especially the ones teaching rather odd classes like control or development of mutant powers. The chronomancer finally removed the papers form the desk, piled them up neatly, edges becoming one, and folded them in a straight line, just to stick them in the back pocket of his pants, where they stood out, white against the dark color of the garment. “The information will be used only by teachers if you want to take classes here.” He then informed the new student with a reassuring nod. Almost mechanical. Oddities were piling up, were they not? But what was to be expected of a mutant? “Please inform the staff if you want to take them.” And finally, the blue eyes turned away from the youth, body now moving to the door opening it with a quick grip. He then turned around and looked at the boy.
“We will now proceed to the boys dormitories. If you want to share a room with someone you will be assigned a roommate.” Not that he really thought that information would be take up lightly by the youth, especially the sharing-of-rooms part, since he was so different, it seemed to him odd that such a person should want to share rooms. That boy was, in a way, akin to himself, kin being one of the things that kept him here, it was only looks that divided them. All of them and some the power, the strength they wielded. Sometimes one could tell by the look in the mutants eye. His thoughts were once again running wild. Nonetheless the quiet steps of shoes now led the youth up a flight of wooden stairs, walls hanged with paintings, until they arrived at a corridor with a dozen or so similar looking doors. Some of them had been decorated by the inhabitants of the room in their very own way, so that one doorframe even seemed to be layered with carvings. It all looked ordinary, if one did not look too closely. “What do you think?” The first question that was not required by his employer was somewhat ordinary. Almost boring. Blue eyes sparkled icily.
Taking classes? Yeah, he would have to do that now. He'd been home tutored and had never been to a real school, so this should be... interesting.
>>“We will now proceed to the boys dormitories. If you want to share a room with someone you will be assigned a roommate.” Chris followed Martin, a bit hesitantly. Roommate? He'd been thinking about it earlier, and of course his initial thought had been to take a single room. But he knew himself too well; knew that if he got a single room he would spend most of his time in there, making up excuses for not having to go out and be socialize. And this was something he wanted to change. Besides, if he wanted to be alone he guessed he could find plenty of places where he could be that. >>“What do you think?” Chris looked at the rows of doors, knowing that this was an important decision. "I... think I'd like a roommate." Then he shrugged, trying to make the issue seem less important than it was. "I mean, if its not working out I could move to another room... if its okay."
