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.
Member of the X-Men Mansion Swim Teacher MRC Detective
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Apr 23, 2024 22:22:33 GMT -6
Jorge
Detective Jorge Cervantes ground his teeth audibly as he drove through the streets of New York, heading for address that was crudely written down onto a piece of line paper on his passenger seat. His eyes dark, his mouth set into a grimace, the man looked like a beast in a trapped cage. It was obvious that he was in no mood to be trifled with today. His knuckles took on a shade of white as he gripped the steering wheel of his Chevy Impala like a vice and his eyes had this unmoving focus as he stared at the city passing him bye. Tonight was not going to be a good night. He knew that already considering what he was out to do…
Months ago his girlfriend Gemma Taylor had contacted him concerning the case of a young, teenage girl named Agnes Nicholas. This girl had suffered horribly due to her parents close minded views on mutants. The monsters had actually attempted to exorcise her of the “demon” that they claimed possessed her. For nearly a year the girl had been living homeless in the streets until she was taken in by the Xavier’s mutant school. She was thriving now but it took a lot for her to finally make the decision to come out and say what had happened. That had to have been the hardest decision of her life, especially to come to a cop like him and reveal everything.
As he drove, the look on the girl’s face continued to make his eyes misty. She was hurt, more than just physically, at just the memory of what had happened. Though she did not tell him word for word, she had written down the account and handed it over. She even waited with him as he finished reading her statement. All it, every last word was just…it had to be a horror story! The detective could hardly believe his eyes as he read it. He was sure that he had shed at least one tear.
But tonight was the night. He had the girl’s address and he was going to arrest those monsters for everything that had done to her. If they could pull such atrocities on their own daughter, he shuttered to think what they could, more than likely have, done to a complete stranger.
Turning down a dark and lonely street, the detective gripped the wheel tighter as he got closer to his location. Randomly memories from his interview with the girl flashed through his head. He remembered that he had to call in a police photography to take pictures of the Agnes’ scars to be documented. It had to be some of the most horrid things that Jorge had ever seen. And he was a veteran cop! There were a lot of horrible things to be seen in the world, a lot of atrocities that people can commit on their fellow man, but this incident took the cake.
Still Jorge had a hard time grasping the truth of it. But there was no denying what had happened. The conviction in Agnes’ eyes, the absolute truth she spoke with was hard to ignore. The girl had suffered and he was going to bring those monsters in…
“There you are,” he muttered as he drove up to a dark and lonely house.
It looked just like any house. There was nothing special about it, no neon signs that announced that there were monsters within its walls, no dark gothic spires or nefarious cackling echoing into the wind. It was just a simple, two story house with a once manicured lawn and peeling away paint. This was not right…the house looked almost abandoned.
Pulling his car up to the curb, the detective exited his vehicle and stepped up to the iron wrought gate that surrounded the property. He placed his hand on the cool metal and gave it the smallest of shoves. The gate creaked in protest but easily swung open without the slightest bit of resistance. Jorge took this as an invitation and stepped onto the concrete pathway that led up to the house.
With each step he could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. The windows looked dark and foreboding, but most of all dirty. Someone had not been outside to scrub the glass clean in a long time. This was starting to make him a bit nervous. By all appearances nobody was living here. If those maniacs were loose in the city, what other harm could they be causing right now?
As he climbed the steps of the house, Jorge cringed with every creaking step, but that did not make him stop. He only stepped boldly up to the door, reared his fist back, and knocked loudly on the solid surface.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!![/b]
“NYPD! Open the…” Before he could finish, the door swung open revealing the abandoned, dark and dusty interior. Jorge eyed the gaping emptiness he could see, pulled his gun from its holster and slowly leaned in. “This is the police! Is anyone home?”
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Apr 23, 2024 22:22:33 GMT -6
Jorge
His shout and announcement echoed through the dark house and rebounded back into his ears. It was the sound of pure emptiness, of abandonment, of nothing. A chill ran down the detective’s spine as he crept forward, gun pointed at any blind spots that crossed his visions. Once he was sure he was safe, he began to move deeper into the home, leaving the open doorway behind him. It was like stepping into the black imagination of a desolate madman. All he saw were the shadows of former things, memories of what used to be and nothing more.
Gun trained and pointed ahead, Jorge eyed the empty house. It looked as if nobody had lived in this house for months. The dust caked the ground like a loose carpet, scraps of trash were littered about, and general grime altered the original color of the walls. The place was an absolute pigsty, no, it was worse than that. Calling it that was an affront to pigs everywhere. This house was an abandoned nightmare.
Slowly Jorge lowered his gun as he stepped into the living room, leaving behind faint shoe prints in the dust on the floor. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a cobweb lazily flutter in a breeze that crept in through a broken window. As he turned his attention away from that, he spied the living room and found it to be just as bare of everything. There were shadows where the vague outlines of furniture used to be: a sofa, a sitting chair, a table, even a coat rack. But there was no actually furniture or decorations or even…
Jorge paused as he was in mid-turn and caught a dull gleam. He turned back and stalked forward until he was standing over something that was lying on its side, only half covered with an overly dusty tarp of sorts. Whatever it was, it had to vague shape of a large fruit bowl that had a tall stand attached to it. As he leaned down he slowly began to pull back the coverings and was immediately met with more dull gleams into his eyes.
He brushed dust aside and it slowly revealed a large bronze bowl with some engravings he could not fully make out. He could see one predominate figure that looked like a bull…or at least a human head with horns…a devil…
It was that realization that quickly made the detective drop the tarp. He knew immediately what it was now. Agnes had stated that during her exorcism her parents had branded her. And that brand came from a bronze brazier like that matched this description. Jorge growled as he looked at the item closely and he could only shake his head. What kind of monsters would do this to their own daughter? The whole time during this investigation, Jorge had been trying to contemplate how such a thing could happen? And each and every time he came up with no answers.
Jorge slowly began to stand when…
SQUEEEAK!! SQUEEEAK!![/i]
Arm snapping up, gun pointed in the direction of the sound, Jorge eyed the corner as he kept his gun trained forward.
“Hello?” he announced. “This is the police! Show yourself!”
His dark eyes sought for something, any sign of movement to reveal to him that he was not the only person here. But as the detective knelt there, gun held straight and unmoving, he glared for a few moments before he saw that there was no dark mass in the shape of a man, woman, or child. He moved slowly onto his feet and stepped forward.
With each step his vision grew more and more adjusted to the darkness and he spied what looked like another door. This was just as plain and paint stripped as every other doorway in the house. But there was something odd about this one…the amount of locks it possessed. Jorge leaned forward to get a closer look at the door when suddenly he heard that high pitched squeaking again. Only this time it was accompanied by movement...
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Apr 23, 2024 22:22:33 GMT -6
Jorge
Squeeak! Squeak!! Squeaak!!
Jorge looked down at the angrily shouting, tiny masses of fur and sneered a little. Three extra large rats had run over his shoe and skittered into the dark corner of the door. The detective sighed, shook his head and lowered his gun. He knew he shouldn’t be this jumpy but there was such a Norman Bates feel to this place that he was half expecting a man in drag to come dashing out from around a corner wielding a butcher knife. As silly as it sounded, he had run into that situation once before and it was not a pretty scenario.
He felt a tiny tug at his shoe and glanced down to see one of the rats defending its territory and gnaw at one of his shoe laces. A roll of his eyes and he nudged the rat aside. He was met with another series of angry squeaks and attempted to turn when spied something odd about the door. There was a very faint crack of extremely dim light.
“What…is this?” he muttered as he leaned close and found that door was not closed all the way. It was open a crack, just enough to show a discernable slit of dim light.
Jorge used the barrel of his gun to slowly nudged open the door. Once the door was open enough he felt that cool rush of air from somewhere deep below his feet. It smelled musty, old, as if it contained stories that no man should bear witness to alone. But still, despite his better judgment, the detective pushed on. The door fully open, he spied what looked like an old, wooden staircase that descended down into the basement. The air actually felt damp and cold, something akin to what he thought a grave would feel like.
With each echoing step down into the darkness, the detective could feel the miniscule particles of earth that he kicked up. The stuck to his exposed skin, to his clothes, almost as if they were welcoming him into an early grave. Covering him with tiny flecks and kisses, telling him, whispering to him that all will be well if only he would just give into it. Jorge, of course, could not take this as an option and merely wiped away all the dust that dared to grab onto him.
Another step down and Jorge could indeed see that there was light below him. As he descended, the faint light that he saw peeking through the crack in the door was becoming more and more visible, though still fairly dim. Once he reached the bottom, he felt the soles of his shoes brush the hard, cold stone that was also covered in a fine layer of dirt. It was definitely evident that no one had been here in a very, very long time.
He heard the crunch of pebbles and tiny stones beneath his shoes with each footfall. As he stepped forward closer to that dying light, like a moth to a flame, Jorge had to squint to readjust his eyes to the surroundings. Thick, rough walls greeted his every gaze as his eyes finally grew accustomed to the dim light. As he rounded a corner, he spotted the source of the illumination: a single bulb hanging from a chain. The light looked as if it could sway with the smallest push of a breath, but right now it was still and rigid. The detective doubted anyone had breathed down her for months.
And as he crossed deeper into the basement, the sounds of scratching and gnawing filled his ears. The sound was so miniscule and so terrifying at the same time that Jorge actually found himself paused and unsure of whether to proceed or not. But, curiosity getting the better of him, he investigated further…
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Apr 23, 2024 22:22:33 GMT -6
Jorge
The scratching echoed around him and surrounded him in a tiny chorus of diabolical sounds. It was as if every creepy crawlie the man had ever run into during his lifespan were trapped within those walls, chattering, clawing to be free and plague him once again. The sound was so deafening the for a moment the detective actually believe that they were attempting to crawl into his skull. He brushed his free hand once or twice through his hair in an attempt to knock the imaginary fiends off. But it was only a momentary lapse in his otherwise calm demeanor.
The detective stared into the blackness and felt something soulless staring back at him. But what was it? Was it actually another physical being? Was it simply his imagination? Maybe it really was just the dark staring back at him, trying to penetrate into his heart and run a chill of fear up his spine. Jorge felt that, felt the onset of terror trying to creep in, but he fought it off.
As always, curiosity bested the better judgment of a man.
He reached up, grabbed the dimmed bulb and slowly turned it to face the dark corner that glared so menacingly at him. As he turned the light bulb up, it slowly began to illuminate and reveal all those things hidden in the dark shadows. The ground was indeed covered in dust and small, broken off pebbles, as well as various types of trash that were far too old to really identify except for the vague shapes of what used to be cans, bottles, maybe even a rag or two.
He moved the light over and revealed more of the dark cellar. Against one wall he saw what looked like an old wine rack and normally this would have been easily overlooked but as he moved the light a little closer he noticed, strangely enough, that there was still a bottle of wine on it. It didn’t make any sense. Agnes had assured him that her parents were strictly and over religiously devout. They allowed no alcohol to pass their lips, no smoking, not even over-the-counter medication. But if that were all true, then why was there wine?
Gently he released the light so that it could dangle back on its chains. The sickly green reflection of the wine bottle still danced before him, beckoning like a miniature, ghastly lighthouse. Drawn towards it, the man kept his eyes locked on the shimmering glass until he was standing directly in front. He reached down, his fingers brushed off some of the thick dust that coated its exterior and immediately he found that it barely moved. Curious, he hand gripped the bottle tightly and with a small bit of force attempted to pull the bottle off the rack. Begrudgingly it stayed in place.
“That’s not supposed to do that,” he muttered a bit obviously to himself. His gun back in the holster, Jorge gripped the bottle with both hands and began to tug.
It was not as if the bottle was simply too heavy for a mortal man to lift, no. There was far more to it than that. Instead as the detective pulled and tugged, he found that the bottle was only heavy because it was actually part of the wine rack, it was wielded on it. It was a fake…but while. He gave it another hard tug and immediately it gave way; but not just the bottle alone, the whole rack swayed towards him. For a moment Jorge skidded back, fearing the rack may collapse on him but instead, he watched it swing open.
A cloud of dust rose up, swirling about his head and Jorge coughed and hacked. It invaded his nostrils and mouth, leaving the distinct taste of earth and ash. As he coughed, Jorge waved his hand to move the dust from around his head. In doing so, he slowly regained a breath of stale, but cleaner air, and stared into that dark space that once held the wine rack.
He reached up, took the light once more and aimed it at the new space that he opened up. Even in the dull light, he could make out the dim gleam of iron wrought bars. The same as anyone would see in a cage…
“Oh my god…” he whispered in disbelief as he walked towards the barred off space, following the now deafening, unending sounds of gnawing and scratching that had become all the more clearer.
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Apr 23, 2024 22:22:33 GMT -6
Jorge
The black iron bars looked like the gaping maw of some beast baring its fangs at him. The detective narrowed his eyes as he ran the light up and down, casting its dull glow over the new finding. It looked like something he had seen many times at his own precinct, a cell. But why was it here? And why was it hidden behind the wine rack? Agnes had never reported having knowledge of anything like this. Unless she was hiding a darker truth about her parents she simply did not want to reveal just yet. Then again, who’s to say the girl knew anything about this? If she wanted her parents behind bars, it would have been best if she had told him about something like this. The only conclusion he could come to was that she never knew.
Directly under her feet, there was a prison cell etched into the hard stone of the earth. And in Jorge’s experiences, things like this were rarely ever used as a food pantry. It was meant to keep something, or someone, in.
Letting the light dangle again, Jorge returned to the gleaming prison bars and took slow steps forward. The scratching was slowly beginning to echo more loudly as he walked. Whatever that sound was, it was actually coming from inside that prison, but his mind could not fathom what it was. The human mind is capable of imagine some of the worst and most horrible scenarios but still Jorge could not process what was there.
Shoes skidding across the fine granules of dirt and stone, the detective rested his hand on the holster gun that pressed against his side. The human fear in him wanted to pull the weapon free and fire into the dark. But the logical side of him tried to reason that there was nothing to be scared of. There was nothing there that could harm him…at least that is what he hoped.
As he walked up to the bars, Jorge let out a cautionary hand and gently pressed his fingers against them. They were cold, hard, and –
“Ow,” he hissed as he pulled his hand back and raised it up to the dim light. Ruby red droplets began to line his hand as he noticed that he had been cut. He leaned in close and inspected the bars closely. “These people are sick.”
The bars, looking close, Jorge could see had been specially made. The side of the bar that faced the inside of the cell was lined with razor sharp teeth that looked especially rusted and sharp. It was obviously meant to keep someone from getting too close attempting to pry the bars open. Anyone who tried were sure to have their hands and fingers shredded. Not the best of circumstances down here amidst the dust and grime.
He carefully licked the blood from his hand and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. As he wrapped it around the wounded digits, he made a mental note that he would have to get a tetanus shot. Leaning in again, but mindful of the bars, Jorge peered into the darkness behind the bars and strained his eyes to see something anything. But only more blackness mocked his dimmed vision. Shaking his head, he kept staring ahead…until he saw movement.
It was small…dark…but it was movement nonetheless.
“Hello! Is anyone here? I’m a police officer!” only his own voice greeted his shouts. As it echoed throughout the small, confined space, the detective could have sworn that he saw more movement. His voice had apparently caused quite the ruckus inside.
Scritch!
Scratch!!
Scritch!
Scratch!!
The sound was unnerving, a tapping of nails across hard stone. But no matter how much he peered into the blackness he simply could not see what it was. Was somebody…still here? Did they actually leave a person locked in here.
A panic seized Jorge as saw some black shape within the cell move and tip over with a clatter.
“Oh god! Hold on! I’m coming!!” he yelled as he turned and looked at the cell. A door! There had to be a door, a lock, something!
The whole while he looked, the chorus of Scritch! Scratch!! rebounded painfully, mockingly in his ears. It was if the very dark void before him cackled to itself, proclaiming victory over the life inside its endless belly…
Member of the X-Men Mansion Swim Teacher MRC Detective
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Apr 23, 2024 22:22:33 GMT -6
Jorge
“Dear God,
My name is Peggy Sue. But, I guess you already know that. Mommy and daddy always say that when I’m scared of confused, that I can turn to You. That whatever the problem is, I can turn to You and You will show me the light, even if the problem is one I don’t understand. Well…I don’t understand this problem and I’m worried.
They always tell me that whatever I don’t understand is a gift for You to come down and share Your wisdom when You are ready. But…are You ready yet? I hope so…
I didn’t mean to make Mom and Dad scared last year. I know I was throwing a fit because I wanted to go out with my friends, but they say ‘No! You have Prayer Group tonight!’ I didn’t want to go so I got so mad I slapped the wall. I didn’t mean to break it. They looked…so scared…like…I wasn’t human. But…I was! I mean…I am still human…right? I didn’t want them to have to replace the whole wall because I smashed it off of the frame. I told them they could cut my allowance, but…they couldn’t even look at me.
It was another two days before they would even look at me. I tried talking to them, I really did. I had a dentist appointment to have my braces tightened and I tried to remind them but they cancelled it. Without even telling me. And then, whenever I tried to bring up what happened, they ignored me, as if I were little more than a ghost. But today…I don’t like today…
They said…they had friends in the congregation that could help me. They said that because I threw a tantrum, that I let a ‘demon’ get in and possess me. But, they still loved me. There were tears in Daddy’s eyes…Mom looked like she wanted to throw up…
I really wished that they would let my out of the Earthen Cave. But the congregation says that the earth must cleanse me before God will. I don’t like it. It’s musty and I already accidentally scratched my hand on the bars. Oh, why won’t they let me out?”
***
“Stay calm! I’m coming!!” Jorge yelled as he finally spotted a metal pipe that had been discarded onto the ground. He would have never caught sight of it if he had not had brushed it with his shoe.
Hefty the heavy metal pipe up, Jorge returned to the cell and peered inside. That dark mass he could barely make out was still hunched over on its side. But as he looked on, he spotted what he could swear was a twig of the leg or maybe even an arm. He could not take the time to figure it out though. He needed to get inside. With pipe in hand, he inspected the cell more closely until he found a grouping of bars actually lined with a thicker metal. His eyes roamed down the frame and rested on the crease of a long ago, dilapidated lock. There was no way that held the door closed. It must have been rusted shut.
Without a second thought, though, Jorge lifted the pipe and struck the lock with an audible CLAAAAANG!!! He groaned as he felt the vibration move throughout his arm and ring in his ears. He had struck the lock hard, fast enough to cause the smallest of sparks to flash through the darkness.
Scritch! Scritch!!! Scraaaaatch!
The sound shook the discomfort of what he had just done as he stared into the blackness of the cell. Was someone trying to communicate with him? Couldn’t they talk? Panic seized his heart as he struck the lock over and over again before finally, it cracked loud enough to force him to stop. As he glared down at it, he saw that a small space had opened enough for him jab the end of the pipe inside and began to pry.
One grunt, two grunts, and there was another loud SNAP of metal tearing from itself. Exhausted and with muscles aching, Jorge used the pipe the pry the door open wide enough for him to move into. Dropping the pipe at his side, he took a second to breath as he looked at his surroundings.
The cell was large, about the size of an average bedroom, but that was there the similarities of comfort ended. There was absolutely nothing in the dark, dank room that he could clearly discern. The walls felt just as rough and coarse to the touch. But as he reached out, he could that some parts of the wall were thick, if not slimier from some unseen water leak that had never been tended to. It was obvious that in no way was this a livable situation. Then again, he doubted they were renting the room out as a hostel.
Another step and suddenly he felt something crunch beneath his foot. But this was not pebbles or loose stones…this was something different.
Scriiitch!!
Srrrrrratch!!!
Squeak! SQUEEAK!![/i]
He pulled his cell phone free from his coat pocket and immediately flipped it open. The glare from its backlit screen almost blinded him, caused him to squint and look away. He took the moment to catch his breath and deep a horrible and grotesque scent. It was one that every cop ran across at least once and from then on never forgot it. The scent mixed with the sounds finally hit him as he realized what he had just walked into. Jaw set, he slowly turned his phone over to illuminate the scene.
Sadly he hung his head as he turned away and closed his eyes tight. A rat ran across his shoe and Jorge disdainfully kicked it, and the bone in its mouth, across the room. Later on, because of the old note in her hand. Jorge would discover her name to be Peggy Sue…
Member of the X-Men Mansion Swim Teacher MRC Detective
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Apr 23, 2024 22:22:33 GMT -6
Jorge
The glare of the blue and red lights illuminated the bleak and dark neighborhood around. The cascades of color revealed the old brick walls, the trash strewn across the streets, even people who were attempting to watch and yet did not want to be been. But these lights, these standards of justice, never let anything escape their glow. From the tops of several police cars and other emergency vehicles the red and blue light coverings flashed and glared over several feet, momentarily turning the neighborhood into a living work of art. But they were not here for that sort of artistic endeavor. A much darker deed had brought them.
Jorge Cervantes stood leaning back against the door of his car as he watched the crime scene unit moving through the house. Their flashlights could be seen through the windows as they whipped around, taking careful photos and collecting all the evidence they came across. He had already watched them bring out the large brazier. The overly dusty, bronze fire container gleamed dully at him, as if angry that it was being brought out into the open air.
He would have liked nothing more than to have melted the damn thing down, but the crime scene unit needed it for evidence. Still though, if never wanted that thing to be used for such a purpose again. Hopefully it would get into the evidence lock-up and waste again underneath some shelf.
Hands stuffed into his pockets, the detective sighed as he cracked his neck to the side and continued to watch the activity of the scene. A few other officers were there, keeping the neighbor public from getting to close, but few had dared the approach him. Jorge knew he had the look of an angry, caged lion about him. He was agitated, he wanted blood, and he was going to get it from anyone who so much as looked at him the wrong way this night. The precinct knew that when the man was irritated it was best to so much as not even tap him with a ten foot pole.
But there was good reason for his anger. In investigating this house for the parents of Agnes Nicholas, the man had discovered another body. He could not tell how long the person had been in that cell but the state of decomposition was rather advanced. Months, years, it was hard for him to tell but either way it made his heart hurt to know that her parents could have done something like this on purpose. Especially considering that Agnes could have shared that same fate.
His fist clenched at the thought and Jorge smashed it back against his car door and heard the audible THUNK[/b] in response. The heat of pain radiated through his hand as he waved it gently off to the side. He wanted these monsters…and he wanted them bad…
The front door was opened…Jorge looked up to see the coroner finally wheeling out a body, sealed in a black bag, on top of a gurney. That had to be the body he found. Pushing himself off the side of his car, the detective pushed the gate open and held it for the coroner’s crew to come walking through with the gurney in front of them. Jorge caught a strong whiff of that scent of earth and soil. His tear ducts twinged, threatening to cause another tear to fall, but he halted that. His anger far outweighed his sadness at the moment.
“That you officer,” a man friendly smile and a mop of curly brown hair atop his head said. “Are you the one that found her?”
“She’s a girl?” Jorge asked as he turned back to the hidden away body.
“Nearest I can tell,” the coroner said with a nod. “Very badly decomposed, I say the body was down there anywhere between nine months to a year.”
Jorge shook his head as he reach up and ran a free hand through his hair, before moving it to the back of his neck and attempted to massage the tension. “Were there…any signs of torture? Anything like that?”
“Well, that’s going to harder to identify,” the man said as he led Jorge away from the house. “Bones…have been repeatedly gnawed on. I can tell you more once I get her back to my office. We’ll do an extensive survey on her.” He patted Jorge gently on the shoulder as he moved past him and headed for his vehicle’s door. But he paused as he turned back Jorge. “I can tell you one thing. Once she was put into that cell…she never left it.”
Jorge watched the man climb into his vehicle and drive the body back to the morgue. As he disappeared, Jorge stepped out of the way of several of the crime scene technicians were who were bustling about . More evidence, more possibly implements of torture, more anger welled up in his heart. Turning back to his car, Jorge stormed towards it as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed the precinct and waited for the operator to pick up.
“This is Detective Cervantes,” he said as he roughly pulled open his car door. “I need a BOLO sent out for a Zacheria Nicholas and Maria Nicholas. These bastards are now wanted for murder…”
