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.
"I'm sorry. Principle applicants only. You understand the liability I'm under if you're wanting your boss' memory wiped without his permission. If it really is as important as he claims it is, he'll just have to call me himself." She hung up on him out of principal and entered the number and notes into her phone as quickly as she could lest she forget them.
Sometimes, Noel got strange phone calls. I want to forget my mother. I want to forget this trauma. I want to forget my last boyfriend. It was lucrative to offer her services on the side. It helped when New York's exorbitant rent checks were due. She just never should have advertised publicly in the newspaper.
Another thing she'd learned was that once a price was settled on, she had to have cash up front. Whether the memory loser wanted no memory of her or not, they seemed to conveniently forget when it was time to cut her a check. Telling them that their words tasted like rotten eggs didn't do much to convince them of their lies.
And of course, there was a slight problem with accepting only cash up front in a city like New York.
"Hey!" Someone had started running while grabbing the body of her purse. She kept it close to her body, but the strap broke. The strap broke and he was getting away with $1,200 in cold hard cash and a badge that identified her as a governmental agent. Yeah. Today was not a good day to loose her purse.
"The hell if you think you're taking my purse!"
It was dangerous to be a mugger in New York city. One never knew if the mugged were crazy enough to come after you.
Noel gripped the phone in her hand and ran after the hooded figure for all she was worth. At least he wasn't getting her phone. If she had anything to say, he wasn't getting anything at all, but her phone was her livelyhood. She had great plans for that money that was running away. Namely a gourmet pizza and rent, but, hey, a girl's gotta have her standards! Let one mugger mug you and then everyone might try it.
Two days that's how long he had been at the mansion and Carrick was already needing to stretch his wings, not the typical, I’ll just go out side and float around type of stretch but his more preferred ‘around the city high flying acrobatics of awesomeness’ just because people weren’t paying anymore didn’t mean they still couldn’t get a show. Carrick liked the attention it made him feel like he fit in more than he already did. After all he did have a perfect little niche when he was working and living at the circus.
His wings stretched outright and his tail flowing in the wind behind flickering this way and that with an untied shoelace. Flapping his wings and picking up speed Carrick turned and barreled rolled high in the sky, although he was high he was still visible to the public on the ground. Arms outstretched in front of him Carrick closed his eyes briefly as the wind buffered his face. The sound of the rushing wind against his face tickled his ears as his shaggy hair just became even messier than it was before.
Opening his eyes Carrick gasped as he flew father than he had though, coming in front of him at a hurried pace was an apartment building. Throwing his hands up in front of him to defend himself and bringing his feet forward Carrick turned his wings to slow his pace. As he slowed Carrick tilted one of his wings in hopes that the currents that carried him would help save him from an impact that he would prefer to miss however the no such luck added Carrick as his hands and legs softened the blow before his body lurched back with the impact of the brick wall.
Falling two feet onto his side on a fire escape Carrick shook his head and laughed as he brushed the hair out of his face. Looking up a level Carrick spotted a pair of pigeons silently laughing at him as his stomach growled, “Lunch!” feeling the urge to shift and snap up the pair of rats with wings Carrick leaned forward and placed his hands on the metal grating clenching them tightly ready to shift.
That’s when he saw the struggle over a small bag. “A thief?” Carrick asked curiously as his tail twitched excitedly, thinking of a game of Hawk and mouse Carrick grinned and eyed the woman running after the man that had took the bag. Stomach rumbling in protest Carrick shook his head and reasoned with it. “Da would be disappointed if I didn’t help a damsel in distress…” the small growl of his stomach ended it’s protesting. He could always get food later, and as his father had said to him several times, ”You have those wings for a reason, be the angel everyone is looking for!”
Sighing slightly Carrick bent his legs and bounced from the grate over the edge of the fire escape and extended his wings only to circle up his head faced the pigeons, “I’ll be right back don’t fly anywhere okay!” watching the pigeons scatter within seconds of him flying near them Carrick’s smile turned to a frown as he let out a small sigh.
Arching his wings and his body Carrick leaned forward and turned into a slow descending dive towards the pair of runners the woman who was hurrying after the thief and the thief who was under the impression that he was getting away with some free stuff.
Creia thought as she dashed through the littered streets of the Big Apple. She could hear them. The crowds of people surrounding the young woman were gasping, shouting, pointing at Creia’s general direction, and telling her to stop. It didn’t matter. As much as NYC tried to boast its bad boy image, it was all a façade. The majority of New Yorkers were scaredy cats and most of them wouldn’t even bother wasting their time of day to help a stranger… no matter how good looking the person was. Sooner or later, she was going to run right pass the ‘concerned’ civilians into the promise land of spending some chick’s earnings.
Earlier that day…
It was a clear autumn afternoon. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Creia’s stomach was growling.
“Lunchtime… please don’t remind me.” Creia grumbled as she held her belly in her arms.
One of the many curses of living was that one had to sustain their basic needs. She, mentally, could go for days without food. However, her body was the weak link that kept her chained up to the mortal realm. She shook her head. She had to find some sort meal to satisfy this ridicules hunger!
Unfortunately for Creia, the broker’s wallet she had previously stolen had been empty for some now. She shrugged, she had never been much of a saver in the first place. Besides, look where she was. She was in New freakin’ York city! Every New Yorker, Japanese tourist, and illegal Indian immigrant was a walking ATM of sorts. The only question was… which bank was she going to withdraw from?
“…If it really is as important as he claims it is, he'll just have to call me himself."
Bingo.
Creia jumped down from the green railing of the subway’s underground entrance. She remained a good 2 to 3 paces back from behind the woman as she reached for her hood to pull it down and cover her face. Now normally Creia did not steal from women. Maybe because of some hormonal female thing or something… But this girl… this girl was asking for it. Creia studied her. From her quick paced walk to the language she was using on the phone, the woman seemed like a business running type. This woman seemed like the girl who could afford a lot of expensive and frivolous things. She should be able to make up the money back in no time.
Creia continued to follow the woman as she was getting close to an intersection. As soon as the woman was about 3 feet from the curve, Creia struck. Creia ran up to the female and grabbed the small purse with both hands. She pulled with all her strength until she felt the strap break.
‘Such a poorly made purse… maybe the woman wasn’t made of money...’ Thought Creia as she sprinted into the path of oncoming traffic.
Car horns began to poorly play a symphony for her. Occasionally the music climax to various colorful words accustomed to New York life. Creia ignored the song as she wove herself through the cars to get to the other side of the sidewalk. She kept on running, resisting the urge to look behind her. Rule #1 of thieving: Never look behind you. No need to show off your identity so easily.
Present Time[/b]
Creia turned into a nearby alley. She took a moment to stop and look at what was in front of her. A simple chain linked fence blocked her way to the other side of and otherwise clear path. A smirk appeared on the young woman’s thin lips. All she needed to do was jump over this little fence and she was free to make her way to the closest Dairy Queen. [/color]
Noel danced at the curb until the tires screeched to a halt. She hated jay walking. Okay. So maybe it was at a cross walk, but the little walking man wasn't walking. It really wasn't safe... how much did she want that purse? Not that much... but the money... she'd given up quite a bit for that wad of dough. She wasn't quite sure what she'd given up, but... it was possible that she'd miss it someday.
The hooded figure was dodging around a corner. It was now or neve--HONK!
"Ahh!" Noel jumped just about the rest of the way to the curb. The taxi driver made a rude hand gesture, but Noel was above such petty things. Of course when she turned around the thief was gone... and a boy with wings was above her... dive bombing her location.
"AHHHH!" Noel ducked and held her hands (and phone) over her head after she'd glimpsed the winged-kid. What? Was she wearing a target?
Eyeing the woman who was chasing the thief almost get hit by a car Carrick changed his wings positioning as they flapped once, but quickly he changed them once again when she avoided the car that almost hit her. Flapping once more giving more power to his wings than usual Carrick headed upward and onward trying to catch the culprit hoping that the woman who he was leaving behind would continue onward so he could find her once he had retrieved the purse.
As he gained distance on the culprit Carrick eyed her from above and spotted a chain link fence that was barring the woman’s current path. Deciding to end the game of hawk and mouse Carrick swooped down and then flapped his great wings above the fence once and then twice before perching like a stone gargoyle on the fence. His feet on the bar while his hands held him steady Carrick eyed the culprit and smiled, and said with a wide grin, “Found you!” his wings folded slightly as he tilted his head to the thief who was a woman and continued, “This was a fun game like chasing but I’ll have to ask that you give the purse back…” his Irish accent coming in loud and clear as he spoke.
His tail twitched behind him excitedly as he had under his understanding won the game, sure she could turn tail and run making a daring thief’s escape but Carrick would then possibly lose the game and he didn’t like to lose. Arching his back and extending his wings Carrick smiled and said, “Please!” his tail swinging low behind his back as he readied for an on coming pounce that he was about to administer if she would attempt to run away.
Creia looked up at the winged boy blocking her exit. His large wingspan barely fit the narrow alley yet it was wide enough that he could swoop down and tackle her. From his little but admittedly cute speech, he was going to be the ‘hero’ of this little chase. Creia exhaled deeply as she looked at the hero wannabe angel.
Only in New York
Creia’s stomach growled once again. That stupid hunger pain... ugh, it was becoming more annoying. Judging from her present condition, Creia probably did not have the strength to kill Big Bird. She could feel herself being affected by the lack of sugar in her body. She felt clammy, her heart was beating faster and she knew if she did not get any sugar soon, she would be able to call this trashed up pavement her new bed. She had to end this. Fast.
Creia gave a delayed scream of terror. She did not care that it seemed a little out of place. The Bird could assume it was from her brain catching up to the vision she was seeing or maybe he could assume she was afraid of mutants. Whatever. She turned to run away from the kid. She wouldn’t get very far. Instead of running straight to the entrance of the alley, Creia purposely tripped herself and smashed her body into a nearby full tin trashcan. The pile of debris exploded in the air. Creia tumbled and felt around the garbage as she slowly pulled herself up.
Slit.
She felt it on her right arm. Creia pulled up the sleeve of her sweatshirt and exposed a long vertical cut that ran close to her veins. It was not very deep but because of the cut’s proximity to her veins, she was producing a lot of blood. She looked over for the culprit of her wound. Drops of blood were falling from the jagged lid of an open metal tomato soup can.
Her planned had worked out perfectly.
Creia bit her lip and winced, trying to hide the pleasure she was feeling from the wound. It had been a while since she had injured herself and the ecstasy from that little cut was almost mindboggling. What a beautiful gift her Daddy has given her. The ability to find delight in what is normally considered man’s suffering.
Being aware of where the winged boy was perched, Creia hissed then slouched over to make it look like she was in pain. It was, of course, a trick. She was faking it to hide a devious little act. She placed the purse on her wound and allowed her blood to paint the purse’s hide crimson. Her thin lips slowly formed into a sinister smirk.
‘If you want the purse so badly birdie,’ She thought, ‘Come and take it.’
Her phone started buzzing against her head. Noel stood and as naturally as any New Yorker who just was mugged, she answered the phone. "What?"
Of course it was her partner, Kale. And of course she was late. The difference was that this time, she hadn't forgotten.
"I'm two blocks down and I just got robbed." Actually... She looked at a street sign. "Make that 3 blocks away." Trash spilled out into the sidewalk causing a passing couple to skitter away in surprise. "Damn. I gotta go. A flying monkey just knocked over a trash can. 5th and May by Jersey Mike's." She mashed the red button and stuffed the PDA in her pocket. Time to work some magic... which was a lot easier if her partner were actually here...
Noel pulled the Firestar from her shoulder holster. It was a small, but solid 9mm. A good fit for her hands.
She was time and again glad that she didn't keep her gun in her purse. No woman can pull anything she needs from her purse on the first try. It's a statistical impossibility no matter what the mathematicians say. And if you're reaching for a gun you'd better mean business. If you mean business then you probably need your gun right away. Hence the blazer for her suit and the lack of gun in purse.
Stepping around with authority, the scene in front of her was... not what she expected.
The hooded robber was a girl and that girl was rubbing blood on her purse? Seriously... Noel got to see some weird stuff in her line of work. The flying monkey was actually a boy who was perched on the fence. The threat seemed mostly with the bleeding one. She had, after all, nabbed her purse... though the monkey wing kid did look ready to pounce... what the heck? Scrabbling over the loot?
"Federal agent. Drop the bag, kid. It ain't worth it." Kael had better be running his ass off to get there because if that girl made eye contact, Noel was going to try to make her forget why she wanted the bag. She didn't have time to write herself a note. Noel would just have to see how resourceful she could be when even she couldn't remember why she had her gun out with the safety still on.
Blinking at everyone going crazy on the ground Carrick wasn’t exactly sure how to respond, the woman had tripped and cut her self and the lady he was trying to help before now had a gun pointed at them. Eyeing the gun Carrick didn’t pay it much mind, sure it was a gun but it wasn’t needed in this game. That and he had grownup around his guns, his dad was a hunter and most if not all the carnies had a gun of some kind back at the circus. Even Carrick had a projectile weapon; the wrist rocket however was taken away after he shot an elephant in the butt accidentally out of boredom.
His wings still out stretched Carrick shifted his head to the side of his wing and spotted a loose feather. Quickly grabbing it and tossing it in the air Carrick determined he was now ready to wing he game his wings looking their best. “To late lady…” Carrick said to the woman with the gun. Leaning forward wings out stretched Carrick swooped down and caught the wind under his wings and charged towards the purse with a grin on his face.
“I win the game!” Carrick said as he had slowed reaching out and placing his hands on the purse. A quick flap of his wings Carrick hoped the woman would be blinded by the gust of wind his wings had given off. Jerking his hands back Carrick’s wings flapped a few times in the thief’s direction.
Creia’s body became still. She had heard that voice before; she had remembered it from somewhere. It then hit her. That voice was of the purse’s owner. Using her peripheral she saw the fuzzy figure of a barrel of a gun being pointed at her.
Wonderful, just wonderful. Not only did she have to deal with bird boy but now she had a possible trigger happy Fed agent as well.
Could this day get any better?
“…Drop the bag, kid. It ain't worth it." The female Fed added for effect.
Well obviously it was if you were going to point a gun at her. Creia began to wander what exactly was in the purse. Money? Files? Maybe an illegal substance or two? She scowled at herself. She should have taken a peak while she was running.
Even with the threat, Creia still did not move. She kept her head down and the majority of her attention to her bleeding arm on the purse. She was stalling for time. It was rather uncharacteristically for Creia to not be able to think of a plan. On one side, we have a winged kid who had the ability to fly and attack her. On the other side, we had a chick with a gun and a clear shot. The only weapon she had was the purse. The question was who was she going to use it on?
She felt a tug on the purse.
The next few moments suddenly slowed down. She watched in wonder as the fly boy’s right hand inch by inch reached out for the purse. Her brown eyes reflected her vision of the youth’s hand touching the blood on the bag. As she felt her body connect with the mutant, she could see the appearance of a cut on his right arm slowly emerge. First it started like a small red line, then it began to make a split in the skin and then finally, blood… life’s gold seeped out of the wound.
In a few seconds, she would hear the cry of unexpected pain.
The boy’s wings had created big gust of wind in the area. Trash, dust, and other debris quickly took flight and moved toward the gunned woman. She covered her eyes and squinted in an attempt to see. Creia heard the rattle of metal on the concrete. She focused on the sound to find it was the soup can she had cut herself on blowing in the wind. Creia let go of the purse and quickly reached for the can. Again, she placed the jagged edge onto her flesh. She made a deep incision across her left arm. Her body shivered at the new pain it was feeling.
She had the gun pointed ambiguously between the winged kid and the bleeding one. Her threat-dar was confused and despite the fact that Noel was a woman, she was a bit sexist.
The girl had the purse. The logical conclusion was that she had been the one to take it. The wing and tail kid couldn't seem to sit still and the girl was already bleeding. So the conclusion he jumped to there was that he had been the one to hurt her. So... maybe the purse thing was hi fault too?
It didn't matter. He lunged for the purse and noel took a large step back as she brought her gun up. Damn. She'd automatically pulled at the trigger. She would have shot a kid in cold blood over a couple hundred bucks and a badge? Noel slammed her gun home into its holster as the two scrabbled. She hadn't wanted to use it in the first place so she shouldn't have even gotten it out.
She'd just hoped flipping cold hard steel meant something. Silly Noel. These were mutants and this was New York. The only thing they seemed to respect these days was a good, firm hand and a reciprocating power.
The air kicked up by the kid's wings sent dust and scraps flying. This was a mess. She didn't want to murder children, even mutant children.
Despite R.U.P.E.R.T.'s strict no-touching policy, Noel pushed up her sleeves and waded in grabbing a wing of the boy's and a can wielding arm of the girl's. She wasn't particularly strong in the arm department, but she was determined to sort this out. It was getting a bit ridiculous. She just hoped Kael would come and get her out of this.
"Hey. HEY! What the heck is wrong with you kids?" and did none of them respect their elders? Geez.
His hand wrapped around the purse as he grasped it in victory Carrick eyed the blood, which now covered his hand and blinked. “Ewwww!” Carrick said as he landed and felt his wing get grabbed with a firm hand. Carrick’s eyebrows narrowed as he turned to the woman and eyed her for touching his wings… he didn’t like people touching his wings like that, only the invited could touch them and gently at that, nothing like how she was holding it. Carrick let out a wince as he felt a sharp pain run across his arm.
Soon after another pain followed as he let out a loud cry of pain a gash formed on his arm to mirror the other as let go of the purse dropping it as he rolled and wiggled his wing out of the woman’s hand “Leggo!”. Once the wing was freed Carrick spun and fell into a large puddle as blood started to fall from his wounds. Tears started falling down his face, as he wasn’t sure what to do.
Confused and disoriented Carrick lifted his wings and flapped them once as his body fell forward trying to push the open wounds into the puddle that would stop it right? He remembered his mother running his wounds under warm water before drying it off and placing a band-aide on it so this was sort of the same thing right? All he had to do is hold his arms under the water till the bleeding stopped.
His heart beating faced as Carrick continued to cry as the blood continued to pour out he wasn’t quite sure what to do, he could shift but that would probably force the blood to come out faster, there was a healer at the mansion though right? He could heal him if he could get there, the only problem with that was he would have to shift to get their fast enough. His tail behind him flapped around violently as he tried to figure out what to do.
The scream had been at a much higher pitch then what she had imagined. Probably because the kid was young. Still, the cry of pain, no matter the pitch, had always been a song of magnificence for her.
Creia was soon distracted from the task at hand and admired the lovely little fountain the birdie had become. The crimson liquid was flowing out of his cut into the murky puddle, turning the water into blood red. His blood --- No, her blood. It was her wound that had appeared on his small frame. It was her blood that was pouring out of his vein. The blood that she willingly offered to her Daddy.
Creia laughed. She laughed loudly so that the entire world could hear. Her body buckled under her weight and she slumped down on the hard surface. Her deep brown eyes stared blankly into the blue sky.
“DADDY!” She screamed, “Daddy, I offer… I offer all this pain and suffering that I have made to you!” Creia cackled, “Daddy! Oh loving Daddy! Do you accept? Do you accept this young fowl’s blood?” And she laughed again. “I can see you Daddy… I can see you! Oh Daddy… you… you are so handsome…” Creia’s voice began to trail off.
Hallucinations: A side effect of dangerously low sugar levels.
During this time, Creia barely felt the grip on her right arm. Finally she noticed and managed to glance over. The woman had abandoned the gun and was holding her arm instead.
"Hey. HEY! What the heck is wrong with you kids?"
“There is nothing wrong with us…” Creia’s head swayed back and forth as if she was in a sort of trance, “The real question… is… what is wrong with the world?”
The winged kid wriggled in her hand and Noel got a wing to the face and shoulder for her efforts. He sort of writhed on the ground for a while as the girl in her hand spouted her devotion to Satan.
Great. Just… great.
Her words tasted like a coffee swizzle stick that had been microwaved. It didn't taste bad, but it didn't taste healthy. Sort of like coffee flavored plastic. She believed every word. It was her truth.
“There is nothing wrong with us… The real question… is… what is wrong with the world?”[/b]
Yep. Noel was holding on to a lunatic. Or a druggie. Whatever she was she wasn't right in the head. And she happened to take a gander into her eyes.
There isn't a whole lot you can do to subdue a psycho. You can't talk to them like normal human beings (or normal mutants either). You can't always count on erasing their balance memories or optical focusing memory because not all of them need to see or stand to go batsh*t. Noel couldn't assume she was a mutant, she'd seen no overt symptoms other than her bleeding. Humans bled just as red.
Noel looked into the girl's eyes deep and deeper.
Forget your father.
With the command, Noel's pupil's began to quiver and that part of Noel's mind that reached out to others went through expunging the immediate memories flavored like father. If she couldn't guarantee wiping crazy, she'd wipe the other girl's purpose.
If she were trying to do this completely, Noel never would have pieced something so integral a part of a person's psyche, As it was, Noel didn't want to forget her own father permanently. So she always went for a hack job so that her own memories would resurface when needed. Of course, she never knew what she was missing while it was gone unless specifically asked.
Noel blinked when the deed was done. She was holding the girl's arm firmly… she'd done something… she couldn't tell what. Could you make a crazy forget to be crazy? But then Noel still remembered the other girl was crazy… so that couldn't be it. Her purse lay relatively soggy and forgotten on the alley floor.
"Why is everybody bleeding?" That was to the still writhing winged boy and the girl holding a soup can. She didn't remember how they got hurt, but it didn't feel like a memory gap. Of course that didn't mean it wasn't one... "We're a couple blocks from where I work, why don't we go back for some first aid?"
"Noel."
An African-American man in a pressed suit stood poised near a wayward trashcan lid.on the sidewalk, ready for action.
"Please don't go near the winged one. I really hate it when physical ones fall apart and stuff."
Noel kept a firm grip on crazy's arm so she couldn't soup can her as she dipped to grab her waterlogged (and worse) purse.
((Noel's current partner, Kael, is an NPC, free to play by any. He is an adapted with a 3 foot range. He will try to help Noel herd you two back to a RUPERT base.))
Carrick’s arms remained in the puddle as the woman started to scream something about her daddy as Carrick continued to cry. One thing was for sure if his Da was here no way in hell this would have happened the woman would have been tossed upside down and pinned to a wall before she could have done anything to him. ”It won’t stop…” Carrick said through whimpers as he placed his hands on his arms trying to wipe them clean from the blood and now the alley water that was probably doing more harm than good.
The woman who had somehow cut him uited down as the woman who’s purse was stolen pressed her hands on her. He didn’t know what she was doing exactly but he was happy the laughter stopped. He didn’t like people laughing when he was crying, it reminded him of home and his older brother always pinning him and calling him a baby while he plucked feathers from Carrick’s wings.
Looking up as a tall dark man in a suit approached him Carrick looked to him and wiped a few tears from his face with his sleeves trying to give of the impression he was tough it was one thing if girls were around but with another man he knew what his Dad would say. ”I’m bleeding!” Carrick said as he lifted his arms to the man who approached him and Carrick’s tail drooped behind him as he lost all feeling in it and felt a sharp pain in his back as he fell over.
Face first into the puddle Carrick coughed and sputtered as he leaned up and tried to move his wings hoping that the pain would stop if he moved them. However no matter how hard he had tried his wings would respond. Blood continuing to run down his arms Carrick started to panic again as his tail and wings were limp. Limp meant he couldn’t fly and if he couldn’t fly he couldn’t live. Was this the woman’s fault? Did she do this to him after she cut him?
Creia’s mind spun uncontrollable as it tried to grasp the reality of the situation. Images flashed before her lifeless brown orbs in attempt to recall the events that just happened. A simple weak inhale gave her a moment of clarity. She remembered looking into the woman’s eyes, painting the purse with blood, cutting her arm, seeing the bird boy, running, stealing…
But all the memories in the world could not amount to the emptiness inside her soul.
Her body became limp as it collapsed onto the gravel ground. The only thing suspended in the air was her arm still being held by the female Agent. From the corner of her eye, she could see from a distance the Black man approach the winged boy. The birdie was attempting to fly but somehow, his wings had become deficient. Was it because of her? Did she cause his pain? Why did she do it? Defense? Offense? Was she the victim… or the villain?
Her head kept filling with questions she could not answer. Answers she could not remember. It seemed like her whole world was crashing down on to the very meaning of her existence. She knew that at one point she had a reason to live, a reason to fight, a reason to care. But no matter how hard she tried, no matter what she did… she couldn’t remember. She just couldn’t remember!
She was an empty shell
‘No…’ Haziness ‘No…’ A flash of gray ‘NO!’[/b] Hot white color bleached her vision.
She had to get out.
Creia dropped the can she was holding. She watched the metallic cylinder fall down and bounced around on the hard surface beneath her. Without thinking, she reached over and grabbed the woman’s bare hand that was still holding her arm. The blood on Creia’s left arm had already founds its way to the palm of her left hand. The blood was not enough to cause full damage, but enough to leave a stinger cut on each arm.
Creia struggled to become free from the woman’s grip. When she finally did, animalistic instincts took over. She ran. She ran straight for the fence.
Her next few actions went by like a blur. She remembered climbing up onto the fence. It was a difficult climb to do. She felt weak and added to that, felt mentally drained. But the want, no, the need to get out of there was so great, her body forced herself over that chained barrier. Creia fell to the ground below ignoring any injuries that she had sustained. She struggled to pick herself up and run. Suddenly, she felt and heard the whoosh of something speedy like a bullet. She did not know who shot it or why but the very threat of death was enough motivation to push herself towards the end of the alley and around the corner.[/color]
