The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Welldrinker Cult
A shadowy group is gaining power, drawing in people who are curious, vulnerable, or malicious, and turning them into Mystics. They are recruiting people into their ranks to spread the influence of magic in the world, but for what end goal?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
The bakery was busy but not completely packed out this particular morning. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and freshly baked pastries filled the air along with the quiet chatter of early morning conversation. Small two person tables ran along the walls with larger four person booths taking up the center of the eating area. The large open pane windows let in plenty of morning light giving the space and cheery feel. Though there were only two registers to handle all the customers, the experienced servers kept things moving. The owners worked in the kitchen itself as they did every morning, putting together all the wonderful baked goods that would keep them in business for the day.
Paul had not been expecting to be contacted by the police. As far as he had known he wasn’t even on their radar so a call from someone named Detective Cervantes had been a complete surprise. Thankfully the man had been relatively cordial on the phone and they had set up a meeting. While this particular bakery was very normal for his routine due to the fact that he lived right above it, his attire for the morning wasn’t. Most of the time he would come down in jogging clothes, have a light breakfast, and then head out for a run. Today he had chosen to dress a little better to hopefully promote the idea that he was nothing more than a simple law abiding citizen that might have gotten caught up in the wrong thing. Of course, the fact that he had no idea what this meeting was about did worry him a tad.
“Could it be the party the other night?” Paul murmured to himself as glanced back and forth from his paper to the door, waiting for someone official looking to arrive, “I know I’ve been making contacts on the streets but I haven’t done anything illegal. At least, not knowingly.”
His mind was racing as he tried to come up with what might be the issue though he didn’t feel particularly nervous. Concerned maybe but most definitely not nervous. Mentally reassuring himself that everything was fine Paul lifted his black coffee and took a sip of the still warm liquid. His plain gray sneakers led up to denim jeans that let just a hint of white tube socks peak through. A dark blue button up shirt tucked neatly into his pants with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows to show relaxation and a gray undershirt peaking out at the throat to show neatness. Appearances were always important and since Paul didn’t want to bring any problems down on himself that might get passed on to the Order they were even more important today than usual.
“Almost nine… he should be here soon.” Paul noticed as he glanced up at the clock hanging over the front entrance. Soon he would know exactly what the situation was… very, very soon.
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Apr 23, 2024 22:22:33 GMT -6
Jorge
The detective sighed as he glanced at his watch. It was already 8:57am. Jorge liked to be punctual when he was meeting with witnesses, especially when they were potential suspects. That was the reason for his meeting with one Paul McCoy.
As he drove his Chevy Impala through the early morning streets of New York, Jorge sighed as he ran through the facts in his head. Something was not adding up about the whole situation. The MRC had been called in to investigate a strange murder scene. Five bodies surrounding a pile of ash that may or may not have been another individual. There was little to no evidence as to what happened, but apparently there was a sighting of an individual at the scene. A man, thanks in part of someone who managed to discover a discarded business card, identified as Paul McCoy. A quick search and a phone number was found.
The detective shook his head though as he finally found the agreed upon meeting space for the pair of them. The building was a bakery with some apartments that were situated above it. A small part of him chuckled as he realized how much of a hell living there would be for someone like him. The man loved his pastries a bit too much.
Pulling off to the side, the detective slipped out, file in hand from the case he was investigating and slammed his door closed. Jorge took a second to breathe in the morning air and was immediately assaulted by the scent of freshly made baked goods. It was such an alluring scent that Jorge actually forgot why he was there! Did he just show up to picked up a few pastries? That had to be the reason, right? But as he glanced over to look at his file he shook his head.
No…police business…right. Why the hell did he skip breakfast?
Running his fingers through his salt-and-peppered hair, the detective made his way towards the glass doors of the establishment. His refection showed the gruff, grizzly man with the persistent five o’clock shadow that he could never fully shave away. His cheap gray suit hung a little loosely upon his body and over that he wore a long, dark gray trench coat that flapped behind him with every step. The man could scarcely be mistaken for NOT being a cop. Another shake of his head as his stomach grumbled and Jorge pulled the front door open and stepped inside.
As soon as he was in, he turned and began to survey slightly busy bakery. He was looking for someone who fit the description he was given for Mr. McCoy. Man in his forties, gray hair, athletic build…
It was only when Jorge made a second glance over the place that he spied someone who was fitting that description. The man was sitting in at a table and looked more like he was dressed for jury duty rather than a casual meeting as he read his newspaper. It was obvious that the man was not sure what to expect from the meeting, then again he couldn’t blame him. After all, how would you dress when asked to meet a police officer out of the blue?
Eyebrow arched, the detective made his way over but kept a small, friendly smile on his face. As he approached the table, he nodded to the man.
Glancing up from his paper one more time, Paul’s eyes focused on the man coming in through the front door. He looked to be in his forties with hair that was beginning to gray but not substantially. He was dressed in the stereotypical cheap suit and trench coat that simply screamed underpaid and overworked peace officer. If that man wasn’t the police detective then he seriously needed to reconsider his taste in clothes. Lifting his cup of coffee to his lips, Paul waited as the man scanned the room and then moved purposefully in his direction. The man was smiling, probably trying to put his suspect or witness at ease as he approached him.
“Paul McCoy?”
“Yes sir.” Paul replied with his own smile as he lowered his coffee cup back to the table, “You must be Detective Cervantes.” His voice was even though anything skilled at listening to voices would probably detect the slight tension or nervousness that seemed to be hiding within the words. It was really an understandable reaction even for those that were innocent. Most law-abiding citizens held the police department at some higher standard and to be questioned by a police officer was in some ways similar to being questioned by a minister or priest. The officer might not have direct communication to the big man upstairs like someone in the clergy but he most definitely had access to those that had been place in authority, which meant that it was still something to be concerned with.
“Can I get you some coffee? Perhaps a bagel or Danish of some type? This place is known for their bear claws. Some of the best in the city.” Paul offered as he motioned to the empty chair that was directly across the table from him. It was polite to offer food and drink to someone you were sharing a table with and that could never be construed as bribery… could it? Maybe offering coffee and a pastry wasn’t such a great offer. Paul was trying to stay out of trouble, not get into it because he had been too polite.
Falling silent, Paul simply smiled as he waited for the other man to respond. If the detective wanted something then he would be more than happy to get it but if the other man wanted to get right down to business then that would be fine with the older man. Paul was ready to play the game but a large part of him was still curious about what the detective might want.
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Apr 23, 2024 22:22:33 GMT -6
Jorge
>> “Yes sir…You must be Detective Cervantes…”
“That, indeed would be me,” he said with a soft chuckle.
>> “Can I get you some coffee? Perhaps a bagel or Danish of some type? This place is known for their bear claws. Some of the best in the city.”
Ah so a bribe, eh? Jorge thought.
Somehow the man must have gotten into the detective’s subconscious and realized that he was hungry. Therefore that could be the only reason that he was offering him something to eat. It was all a ploy in order to get on his good graces by stuffing him with delicious, freshly baked pastries. Jorge could see the evil plan for what it was, he was onto him! Then again…he might have simply been in a hunger-induced paranoia. Whatever the case though, he knew that he had to stay strong.
With a shake of his head, but still attempting to keep as friendly a demeanor as possible, Jorge nodded respectfully to the man.
“No, not right now, thank you,” Jorge said as he glanced off to the counter.
The danishes really did look good and he was partial to them, but he would keep his resolve for now. This was a very important matter after all and he was sure that the man probably had better things to do than sit around and watched the detective chop down on flaky pastries while waiting eagerly to see what this meeting was about. Had the tables been turned, Jorge himself would have been irritated by a situation like that, he believed that whole heartedly.
As he returned his attention to the man, around his own age, sitting at the table, Jorge took the seat that he was offered and set the closed file down in front of him. The man seemed pleasant enough to be around, but while he eyeballed him he could see there was there was something there. A slightly nervousness under his voice as he kept himself calm. Most probably would have missed it, but being a detective as long as he had been meant he had a good ear for catching things like that.
Still, it may have been nothing. Few people talk to cops and remain calm anyways.
Jorge, though, would try not to scare the man away. “Well, I suppose that you’re curious as to why I set up this little meeting with you,” Jorge said as he opened the file and began to casually look over a couple of sheets of printed text. “First of all,” he flipped a few sheets over and pulled out a large, glossy print photo of an abandoned looking warehouse. The same warehouse where the five bodies were found. He slid this photograph across the table to the man. “Does this site look at all familiar to you?”
Apparently the detective was ready to get right down to business and that was just fine with Paul. It was only polite to officer refreshments in this sort of establishment. Wasn't it? Laying that train of thought aside, Paul set down his paper and waited patiently as the detective took a seat and then opened a file he was carrying and began to examine it. After flipping through a couple of pages the man pulled out a large photo which he placed on the table in front of Paul.
"A warehouse? This is about some warehouse?" Paul thought as he gave the photo a careful perusal. At first he didn't think he recognized the site but something was nagging at the back of his mind. Leaning back in his chair, Paul focused on the picture for several moments, his brow furrowing ever so slightly in concentration. "It could be most any place but for some reason it seems familiar..." He mused quietly as he tried to place exactly what he was seeing. Suddenly out of nowhere the image clicked and Paul realized exactly why there was a police detective sitting across from him. THIS was about dead bodies!
"I think I've seen this place down in the Brooklyn area." Paul spoke up as he raised his eyes to meet the brown ones that were studying him from across the table, "I go jogging down there sometimes so I've probably seen it as I passed though, if I remember correctly, there are a lot of warehouses in that area. Is there something special about this one?"
Setting the photo back down Paul studied the detective as he waited for a response. He knew what was special about this particular warehouse but there was no way that he would offer that sort of information. He was just starting to get to know the Order and what they were about and he would never compromise that sort of trust. Besides, it wasn't like the men that had been killed were the innocent sort. They had attacked Lori first and then even attacked him. No, there was no guilt for his decision. He had killed at least one of those men and while he himself had been murdered as well, that at least wasn't a permanent condition.
While he sat their waiting for Cervantes' reply, one question kept popping up in his mind. "How did they connect me to this?" All of his valuables and identification had been consumed during his rebirth, at least as far as he knew, and from the vibes he'd gotten from Lori there was no way she would try to pin this on him. She had thought he was dead for crying out loud. So what else could it be?
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Apr 23, 2024 22:22:33 GMT -6
Jorge
((OOC: SOO Sorry about the wait Phoenix. I completely forgot that you posted and I just finished moving so I didn't remember until today. Sorry!))
>> "It could be most any place but for some reason it seems familiar..."
It should be familiar. You were there and several people are now dead, Jorge thought to himself.
But he had to maintain his cool. He was not going to outright pin the murders that occurred there on him, but he was curious as to why he was there. The small bit of evidence he had seemed to place him at the scene but why? Why was he there? Did he get caught up in something he shouldn’t have? Was he the murderer? Did he know who it was? Whatever the case he needed to question the man. As nice as he seemed, you cannot judge a book by its cover. The nice, gray haired man could simply by a raving, murdering lunatic at night. One can never tell.
With a nod of his head, he remained silent, but simply continued to watch the man. There was something clicking inside his brain, even though he seemed to be emotionless. Jorge could see it there, the wheels turning, the sensation of seeing something familiar as the brain races to figure out what it was. The brain does not always like to be left with a puzzle…
Within moments, Jorge was greeted with a response…
>> "I think I've seen this place down in the Brooklyn area…I go jogging down there sometimes so I've probably seen it as I passed though, if I remember correctly, there are a lot of warehouses in that area. Is there something special about this one?"
Jorge remained silent for a second as he watched the man. He was a cool customer and nothing about his features showed any hint that he was guilty or not guilty. Detective Cervantes knew that he was probably going to have to push him a bit further. As nice as he was, the detective could not let that get in the way of his case. He was not going to slap cuffs on him and do the tough guy routine, but he needed to get down to business.
Opening up his folder as he shared a knowing smirk with the man, Jorge pulled a photocopied photo from the file and slid it across to the man. It was the crime scene, the dead bodies photographed, the pile of ashes, markers that showed possible evidence…
Jorge waited for the man to look over the photograph, reading his expression, then finally spoke up.
“You tell me, Mr. McCoy,” Jorge said with all seriousness, except for the tiny grin on his lips. “After all, you were there.”
(OOC: No problem. Real life sometimes gets in the way of RP, I understand. Good to see you back though!)
IC: The detective seemed to be taking his time in answering Paul's question. That was pretty normal since most police officers wanted to be the ones asking the questions, not answering them. Subconsciously Paul knew that his asking questions was probably getting on the other man's nerves but he also knew that it was completely natural. Any normal person would want to know why they were being questioned by the police. But instead of assuring Paul that it was strictly procedure or some such standard line, the detective remained silent, just watching him.
Finally the man reached down and opened up a folder while smirking ever so slightly. Somehow, the way his lips curled, Paul was willing to venture a guess that this man smirked a lot. It wasn't the most professional look in the world but somehow it just fit this detective as he slid yet another photo across the table for Paul to look at. This was the one Paul had been expecting as he reached down to grab the photo and lift it up for her perusal.
Faking surprise or any other emotion is extremely difficult. Most people when they show real emotion don't actually hold the reaction on their face for a very long time but those that try and fake it hold it for to long. In the split second he looked at the photo, Paul made his decision. There would be no faking surprise or any other emotion. He would simply go with the emotion that had begun to permeate the society. A lack of empathy and caring.
"Looks like a picture off of one of those crime scene television shows." Paul said after a few moments of looking at the photo. "You'll excuse me if I'm not all that surprised. I lived in LA for quite a few years where there was a lot of gang violence and New York isn't all that much better."
Looking back up, Paul set the photo down on the table though he didn't bother to slide it back across to the detective. He was still waiting for a reason why he should admit being at this particular warehouse. "But, like I told you, I've jogged in that area numerous times. Why connects me to this warehouse over any of the others? Did I urinate in public against the wall of this building or something?"
He knew that he was probably sounding like something of a smart ass but he didn't really care at the moment. He wasn't out to make friends with this detective and since there still appeared to be nothing connecting him to the crime scene that he was being shown. He had already admitted to jogging in the area so unless they had something linking him to the inside of the building he was scott free. Of course, he was pretty sure it wasn't going to be that easy. This detective seemed like one of those people that played his cards close to his vest. Well, it was time for him to decide whether to hold 'em or fold 'em.
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Apr 23, 2024 22:22:33 GMT -6
Jorge
Apparently Mr. McCoy was going to attempt to play this cool. Jorge was not surprised but he had hoped that the man would have been a little more upfront with what was going on. Instead though…he was going to pull himself off as simply the innocent man…
>> "Looks like a picture off of one of those crime scene television shows…You'll excuse me if I'm not all that surprised. I lived in LA for quite a few years where there was a lot of gang violence and New York isn't all that much better."
Jorge knew all about violence. He used to live in Calfornia as well, not far from Los Angeles. It was a tough place, rampant with all sorts of crime and misbehavior that the memories were still present in his mind, even now at 40. Though he did leave California when he was 15, there was really no place that was totally safe from crime and violence. Miami was just as bad and that was where he started off as a cop. Miami was a town where all sorts of criminal activities could be witnessed and many times Jorge saw those while he was on the job: drugs, prostitution, homicide, attacks, he’d seen it all.
And because of that he really was not buying the man’s reaction. He knew something, he had to, but he was playing it off as if he really didn’t know. The man was choosing to be aloof to the situation. Normally it would have been a circumstance that the detective would have bought…but not today.
>> “But, like I told you, I've jogged in that area numerous times. Why connects me to this warehouse over any of the others? Did I urinate in public against the wall of this building or something?"
“Huh, well…maybe I’m wasting my time then,” Jorge said with a nod as he reached across the table and casually retrieved the photo of the crime scene. “I really am sorry,” Jorge started to say as he slipped the photo back into the file, but as he did, he stopped curiously. An arched brow and he turned to look at Paul as if he had just found something surprising. “Huh, well look at that.”
Jorge pulled another photocopied photograph from his file and looked at it closely, scrutinizing it as if it were a piece of art. As he did, he sighed as he glanced over at the man sitting across from the table, having not shown him the new paper yet. It was only after a second of watching the man, as if giving him a chance to recant his story, that Jorge finally slide another photo across the table to him.
“I really think you should look at this before I go.”
The paper showed an enlarged image of a man’s license…or at least what was left of it. A vast majority of it had been burned away, the edges blackened beyond all repair. The majority of it seemed to have been eaten away by flames but what was left was very telling: all there was was a name that said “-l McCoy”. The rest of it was completely illegible or burned away, including the general physical stats and the photograph that should have lined up with it. Now, there were a lot of people in New York and a lot of people who could have a name that matched that profile. Jorge knew that. But he needed to gauge the man’s reaction and fish something, anything that would show he was there.
“I have a witness who places a man of your exact description in that area at the time of the murders, Mr. McCoy, along with that startling piece of evidence.” Jorge said as he sat comfortably in his chair and watched him closely. “But, then again, there are a lot of people in New York. You can just give me your license to verify that this isn’t you, I’ll happy go on my way. Unless, of course, you have something else you need to tell me?”
Last chance, Jorge knew that. Though the evidence was circumstantial at best, Jorge needed to keep the man on edge. If he was not the culprit or didn’t know anything, fine, but he would rather question an innocent man than let a guilty get away.
"Huh, well... maybe I'm wasting my time then. I really am sorry." The detective said, the smirk wiped off of his face at Paul's comment. Mentally he was breathing a sigh of relief as he simply smiled at man, quite pleased that he had escaped unscathed. But then, the detective stopped while making yet another comment and looking in that file of his. That damn file that seemed to keep coming up with things to try and ruin Paul's day. What did they have now? A security camera that had caught a glimpse of him or something? He didn't remember seeing any in that part of town but that didn't mean that some worried land lord hadn't installed some for added protection.
"I really think you should look at this before I go."
Glancing down at the paper, Paul saw something he never would have expected in a million years. It was quite obviously a photo of evidence that had been gathered at the crime scene. A photo of a partially burned drivers license. The picture, stats, and much of the name were burned away but what was evident was more than enough to point fingers in Paul's direction. "When did they start making those things so tough?" Paul wondered to himself as he mind suddenly went into a whirlwind, "They've always been completely consumed by the fire before. What happened this time? What changed?" Unfortunately for Paul he had already been dead when Lori fished through his and the other corpses' pockets. The fact that his wallet had not been returned to his pocket in the normal way had meant that part of the license survived. Very abnormal.
It looked like Detective Cervantes had the evidence that clinched it and linked Paul to the crime. If he had been anyone else, he would have broken in a cold sweat. He would have started stammering, or asking for a lawyer, or trying to bluster his way past the evidence. Fortunately, Paul was not any other person. Paul was a man that had experienced the loss of credit cards, id's, keys, and other things on a semi-regular basis. It was one of the reasons he didn't own his own vehicle and why he kept the keys to his apartment in realtor's box with a six digit combination lock hanging on his door as well as a key left with the owner's of the bakery. In his pockets were only the bare necessities because he never knew when he might die and lose everything. And because it seemed to happen every few years, Paul was also used to going in the very next day to get a new ID and order up new credit cards.
Reaching in his back pocket, Paul retrieved his wallet and tossed it onto the table, letting it fall open to reveal his rather horrible looking driver's license. There was no smile but just a grim stare that would almost fit more with a mugshot than a driver's license.
"I believe I already mentioned that I jog in the area so the fact I was seen in the general vicinity of that warehouse doesn't mean a whole lot." Paul replied quietly. This man was beginning to annoy him and it was very possible that he would be a thorn in Paul's side if he decided to push the investigation. Paul wasn't sure exactly how DMV records were kept and he didn't know if they'd actually have record of the last time he came in to get a replacement license but if they did then a little research by this detective would bring him right back for another meeting. How in the world would Paul explain having to go get a replacement license the day after the murders?
"And I'm afraid I don't have anything else to tell you so I guess you'll be happy to go on your way. I hope you find the killer that did this but it wasn't me." OK, so maybe he had killed one of the men pictured but it had been in the middle of a fight and he sure couldn't remember which one. Besides, the rest of them had all succumbed to Lori. She was the real murderer though the way she ran that part of the city, it was highly doubtful anyone would even mention seeing her.
"Now... can I get you that bear claw or do you have some other questions?" Paul asked, his lips curling ever so slightly into a smirk of his own. Since he had wiped the smirk off the other man it only seemed fair that he wear one for the moment. Smirking could be very satisfying.
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Apr 23, 2024 22:22:33 GMT -6
Jorge
Jorge said nothing but instead just cast his eyes down at the Driver’s License that was inside the wallet. He took a mental note of the license number and cleared his throat, saying nothing as he looked it over. So the many had a perfectly find license already. He was sure that this man would have been missing one. If only there had been a little more remaining on the one license they had in evidence then there would be no question that he was there. But only going off a partial name and one witness’ vague description was tricky. Jorge could haul in him for being under suspicion, but it wouldn’t go anywhere. Already he could foresee that. The evidence was circumstantial at best.
Who knew how many “-l McCoy’s” lived in New York city alone, not counting travelers and stolen identities! But…there was something that ran a suspicious bell in Jorge’s mind. He couldn’t put his finger on it…but it was there…nagging at him.
>> "I believe I already mentioned that I jog in the area so the fact I was seen in the general vicinity of that warehouse doesn't mean a whole lot."
Jorge said nothing in response but instead collected the evidence photo back from him and tucked in back into the file. The only photo he left on top of the glossy photo of the warehouse he had first handed to the man. That was the last from his bag of tricks. Though Paul could verify some things there was still something in Jorge’s mind that pointed him at the man. He was hiding something and whatever it was, the detective felt it necessary to find out. Picking up the wallet, he eyed the ID closely, mentally wrote down the license number and smirked as he handed it back to the man across the table.
“DMV, always manage to catch you when you look most awkward,” he said with a chuckle.
>> "And I'm afraid I don't have anything else to tell you so I guess you'll be happy to go on your way. I hope you find the killer that did this but it wasn't me. Now... can I get you that bear claw or do you have some other questions?"
And that was the end of the meeting. Jorge knew that tone of voice anywhere. He had irritated the man though he was still trying to remain as composed as possible. If his apathy were not so honest, Jorge could have sworn the man was an actor. Then again, there was always room for the detective to be wrong.
With a shake of his head, Jorge carefully picked up his file and nodded to the man. “No, I’m afraid the doctor has me off doughnuts for the time being. You know, we all gotta take care of ourselves or we’ll find ourselves cremated before we want to.” He shrugged and slid out of his chair. “Thank you for your time, Mr. McCoy. I apologize for wasting it. You have an excellent day.”
The detective turned and began to head out of the bakery, his eye glancing on the glossy photograph he held on top of the file. Along the edge he could still see the fingerprints of Paul McCoy when he handled the photo earlier. All he needed to do was hand it to the tech guys, they can add it to the system and if any prints come up from the scene, they could compare to his.
The detective fell silent when Paul tossed his wallet on the table, apparently trying to gather his thoughts as he gathered up the evidence photos and tucked them back in his file. Yes, the smirk had been well and truly taken off his face and Paul felt quite proud about that. Once again it was being proven just why so many crimes went unsolved. Lack of evidence bound the hands of justice tightly while the criminals scamped on about their merry way.
"DMV, always manage to catch you when you look most awkward." The man finally spoke, chuckling and acting as though everything was going his way. Really? Why couldn't he just accept defeat gracefully and make a speedy retreat. Why try to drag this out as though he had won?
"I think it's because they always take the picture at 1 or 2 instead of 3." Paul commented dryly as he retrieved his wallet and tucked it back in his pocket.
"... You know, we all gotta take care of ourselves or we'll find ourselves cremated before we want to." The detective was finally saying goodbye as he rose back to his feet but one line stuck out in that statement. Obviously this man had no idea about Paul's mutation but it still struck him as funny. If only he knew how much truth was in that statement.
"Very true." Paul replied with a soft laugh, "Very true. Have a nice day yourself Detective. Hopefully the next time we see each other it will be in a recreational setting instead of during the course of an investigation."
And with that the meeting was over but even as the detective walked away and Paul looked back at his paper he had the nagging feeling that the other man had left a little to happy. Instead of acting as though he had lost a battle he walked away like he was the winner. Had Paul missed something? Had there been another fight going on beneath the main battle? It was a thought that would nag at the back of his mind for some hours until finally he could dismiss it. He had handled the meeting well... very well.
