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.
(( OOC: A few things: 1) I'm assuming here that Sonya has, over the course of the last seven weeks, coordinated with Syn to allow her to replace one of the Camp guards (Doug Schumacher, so she can infiltrate the Camps and make contact with some of the inmates, as well as more easily coordinate with Rupert when the time for a breakout comes. Sonya doesn't know what the Order did with the original Doug and she doesn't really want to know.
2) Doug has been assigned to supervise the Customs mutants, replacing whoever previously had the job. Not for any particular reason, I just picked a spot. I'm creating a new thread rather than posting in the old Customs thread because we've jumped seven weeks and I don't want to interrupt that one.
3) Thread is open to anyone... I figure prisoner work-shifts probably rotate occassionally.
Mods et al, let me know if any of this is a problem and I will modify or delete this post accordingly... I'm just looking for an excuse to RP with some of the camp residents. ))
Walking into the Camps of her own volition was, without question, the scariest thing Sonya had ever done in her life. She'd been convinced that some mutant-detector was going to go off as soon as she reported for Doug's workshift and she'd be tossed into the Camps for real, and she's still not 100% convinced she's gotten away with it.
On the other hand, everyone seems to be treating her normally. Admittedly, in some cases she'd almost rather they attack her... listening to Taggert bragging over coffee about the "freak bitch" he'd raped the night before, for example, had nearly made her vomit.
The truth is, she would probably have thrown her coffee in his face if it hadn't been for Doug's stolid psychic presence... but something about the personality attached to this body helped her refrain. She'd simply frowned disapprovingly throughout the whole story, which -- judging from Taggert's reaction -- was basically what Doug has always done. Meanwhile, Sonya had carefully memorized his face... after this was all over, there would be a reckoning.
Even that had paled by comparison to seeing the prisoners, though. She'd expected some signs of abuse, every prison had some of that, but she'd been completely unprepared for what she'd seen, the way everyone was bruised, beaten, broken. It was like a horror movie, except worse, because it was real.
How the hell can we be sitting around biding our time while these people are trapped in here? It's not the first time she's had the thought, though it's suddenly much more visceral than it had been. And she'd said as much to Syn more than once, but it had become clear by now that her nominal leader wasn't really in charge. That honor belonged to this "Hunter" fellow, who from all accounts was the sort of "long-view" strategic thinker who could care less how many people suffered in the meantime.
Well, maybe I can do some good in here, anyway. She cheers herself with the thought as she replaces the previous shift's supervisor. Once the check-out/check-in procedure is completed, she looks over the mutants working the station.
"So," she drawls out neutrally. "You folks got names?"
Neena entered the room. Backwards. It wasn't because she was eccentric, though she was, and it wasn't out of some strange ritual submission either. It was a solution borne of necessity.
Her arms were piled high with camp 'uniforms'. According to camp policy, the shapeless gray garments issues to the inmates were recyclable; whenever an inmate's stay was 'terminated', their uniforms were sent to Neena and Sara in the Laundry, cleaned, dried, and reissued from the Customs office. When delivery duty fell to Neena, she carried the pile to the Office. However, the pile needed two arms to carry, and the door needed one arm to open. As she only had two hands available, and her guard escort was less than helpful, a little creativity was needed.
Thus the 'lean-against-the-door-twist-the-knob-push-it-open-with-your-butt-and -hope-you-don't-trip-and-fall-on-your-rear' maneuver was born.
It didn't always work. Like.... today....
As Neena scooted in, the garment on the top of the pile caught on the door. She tried to catch it, which resulted in the pile toppling to the floor, followed quite quickly by the dark-skinned woman. Her escort rolled his eyes; the show had grown dull to him very early on. Instead he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and stood outside smoking, confident it would take her at least fifteen minutes or more to refold the clothing.
Neena sat up and grumbled. "I hate laundry...." Staying seated where she'd fallen, she reached out and began folding again.
(( OOC: quite the contrary, I was hoping somebody would... ))
Before the customs workers quite make up their minds how to respond to "Doug's" attempt at an introduction, they are interrupted by a new arrival shuffling her way into the room and collapsing on top of her burden of clothing.
Sonya's first instinct is to offer her a hand up; this is neutralized before she does more than stand by the body's well-established "don't get involved" reflex. Which is probably good advice, she realizes, but there's no way she's going to establish useful contact with anyone in the Camps if she follows it.
So instead she yells at the woman's escort "Shut that damned door, willya? Stink up the whole damn place with those cigarettes..." She ignores the guard's grouchy response, and when the door finally slams shut she mutters, as if to herself, "Bad enough they gotta wear that crap; ain't no call for it to smell like cheap tabacco."
A moment later she rolls her chair over in Neena's direction, and leans casually against the door. "More comfortable than the floor."
"Why thank you Mister Doug." Neena replied as the chair was scooted her way. But rather than get up and sit in it, she used it to start a secondary laundry stack, remaining sitting on the floor.
She grinned at the guard. Up until that point he hadn't disuaded her from calling him by name. Many of the guards seemed to take offense at the 'freaks' calling them by name, and made it clear through force; the mustached man had just grunted and ignored her. So she continued.
"So how are you this fine mornin'?"
Neena squinted at him slightly; her near-white eyes had been growing a bit fuzzy lately, from the sunlight, and her dark skin was even darker under her lids. She was tired, but not weary. Her spirit wasn't broken yet.
> "Why thank you Mister Doug. So how are you this fine mornin'?"
Sonya's more than a little startled by the enthusiasm in Neena's voice and expression. At first, she thinks it's a sign that the dark-skinned girl has for some reason been spared the worst of the camp's horrors... a collaborator, perhaps?
On the other hand, the scars on her body are readily visible where the camp uniform fails to cover skin, and she seems neither better-fed nor more rested than any of the others. So maybe she's just exceptionally cheerful by nature. Or maybe she's decided it's a safe way to annoy the guards... assuming there is any safe way, which she tends to doubt.
She shrugs Doug's shoulders in reply. "Still workin' here." She takes care to adopt a tone that suggests he's not happy about the fact, without actually giving away anything specific. "So how come you're so cheerful, anyway?"
Neena had taken the first stack of folded grey garments to the customs. There was a second stack of the very same. So Sara had scooped them up and been escorted by James through the barracks.
James put a hand on Sara’s elbow as he escorted her. Pulling her sideways every now and then and watching the stack waver back and forth just above the feline’s head. He’d been playing this game with Shya, the camp’s resident Blind girl. Now to made it with Sara using the excuse that she probably couldn’t see in front of her with the laundry piled that high in front of her eyes. If it wasn’t for a good sense of balance and dexterity, due to James’s antics, she might of dropped the cloths in the dirt. Probably another reason why he was highly amused by the feline at the moment.
Sara reached the door and turned the handle. With a free hand she turned the doorknob and pushed with the side of her hip… Nothing.
James’s face melted from a grin to a glare. “Don’t fool with me cat!”
“I’m not.” Sara said. Amber eyes flicking back in James’s direction. “IT really is stu-“
THWACK!
James cut Sara off with a sharp slap to the face around the pile of laundry that miraculously stayed stacked in her arm. She fell back against the door that cracked open before James shoved Sara backwards into the room. The weight keeping the door shut was gone and Sara stumbled in, tripping over Neena. A split second later Sara had landed on her tail with her pile of laundry falling on top of her.
James leaned in the room. “Oh, Guess you weren’t lieing about the door.”
"Still workin' here." Neena resisted the urge to say 'I'm sorry for you', as that might have gotten her a bruise or more. Instead she kept smiling and folding.
"So how come you're so cheerful, anyway?"
Neena paused and looked up at the man. That was the most he'd ever said at once, and the first actual question. It made her stop and think for a moment.
Then, "Well, let's see...." She began counting points on her fingers. "I'm alive and walking, if a bit clumsily. I can still see, though that may or may not change within the next month or so. I haven't been hit in over twenty-four hours. I've gone to Isolation twice this week, so I'm only three weeks behind in my sleep now. Um.... I'm losing weight. I hear most women consider that a good thing." She paused again, then grinned and added, "Oh! And I haven't broken any nails yet today."
She chuckled and resumed her folding, observing his reaction covertly.
She heard a sharp noise behind Doug, from outside. A few moments later Dough was shoved out of his position, and in tumbled Sara, right over Neena and her clothes.
After a moment she announced cheerily, "And now my friend has joined me. That's makes eight positive items for my list today." She rolled to her hands and knees, then stood to help Sara up. She dutifully ignored the Skinny, Spineless Jerk at the door.
Posted by ssj5nappa on Jan 3, 2008 11:38:07 GMT -6
Guest
(OOC: Michael has been inactive for a while due to writer’s block, but it’s finally gone so he’s back)
Michael had been a busy little beaver over the past seven weeks. Unlike Shrapnel and Gore, who’d gone for a very high profile escape, Michael was looking do things much more subtly. He’d avoided any aggro from the guards, while at the same time building up small, scattered stockpiles of food and useful items about the camps.
Wondering in to the customs he went straight over to Neena and Sarah and sat down opposite them. “Hi girls, how are things?” he asked, which was in fact code for have they managed to liberate anything new. He’d managed to establish several code words and phrases to allow the inmate to discuss things without the guards’ knowledge.
(OOC: Feel free to make up code words and phrases)
Sonya can't quite decide how to respond to Neena's litany of reasons to be cheerful, and is ultimately spared the need to by the door bumping against her, and shouting in the hall. A moment later, the door opens as she steps away from it, depositing a second pile of laundry and mutant into the room. It only takes her a second to recognize Sara's distinctive appearance, though she looks quite a bit the worse for wear compared to the cat-girl Sonya had met at Sanctuary.
"Jesus H. Christ, what the @#!$ $)@#)(! @#!@#? Is this how we enter rooms now? Did I not get the memo or something?" She's about to slam the door shut again when another inmate joins them -- somewhat familiar-looking, though she can't place him. "Oh, good. Someone actually walking into a room... lovely to see. Let's make that a new trend, shall we?"
She regrets having said anything when James gives the new guy an evil look and chortles insipidly. "Nah," he mutters as he uses his override hook to trigger Michael's bracelet. "More fun t'watch 'em fall down."
Sonya doesn't even spare the attention to see if Michael actually falls before stepping into the doorway to block James from entering, but she does manage to control her rage enough to not simply punch him out. "Look buddy, I don't know how the #@!$ you run your station, and I don't care; you get your jollies abusing teenage boys that's between you and your #@!$! pimp. This station's mine and you're interfering with me meeting my performance targets and I ain't putting up with it, so you shut that #$!@#! thing off and get the #_)@(!# out of here, understand me? I'll send the cat-girl you're "escorting" back when I'm done with her."
"And here comes reason number nine, another friend," Neena added as Shield appeared, with a bit more grace then the ladies had. She enjoyed the slightly puzzled look her 'list' received.
“Hi girls, how are things?”
Neena replied to, while listening with satisfaction to Doug chew on James rear a bit. "Eh, about the same. The usual knockabouts and such." In other words, just before Shrapnel had vacated, she had refilled her stashes of 'misplaced' medical supplies. "Made a delivery to the kitchen, unfortunately. You know that woman has a temper hotter than a volcano?" Otherwise known as a food raid, with a few spices liberated. It was amazing how dull food could be without salt. Plus she had plans for the habanero powder.....
"How's things with you?" She resumed her folding, still listening to Doug's colorful conversation.
Definitly not Sara’s most graceful moment. And landing on one’s tail really wasn’t something that should be tried on purpose at home. That is if you’re lucky enough to have a tail. Sara had heard some humans were.
She accepted the help to her feet just as Michael walked in. She dusted her grey dress off with a quick swipe of her palms. Careful to not snag the fabric again on the fabric. She tried to hide her smirk about James getting chewed out by another guard.
“Hi girls, how are things?”
Sara glanced up. Neena gave her report, then Sara added hers. “Shya has introduced me to a few more of the other camp members.” In other words Sara had a peace of paper hidden under her bunk of the camp’s deceased. Names that Shya had given her, and it had recently grown.
“Speaking of Shya, I also collected a load of laundry from the grave yard.” Her eyes flicked in Neena’s direction. “I don’t think I can repair on of the shirts though. Too many holes.” She’d collected the spade side of a broken shovel and hidden it in one of the shirts waiting to be washed. Unsure what to do with it but not wanting the chance for a discarded tool to go to waist.
(Nice Sonya. Exactly what James would say. *Adds more.* Hope you don’t mind me throwing a wrench in the works for Sonya.)
James’s face slackened from the glare as doug chewed him up. “Dude!” His cheeks started changing new shade that included purple and splotchy white. “What the *&%^# is wrong with you!” He brought his head high again tapping the button on his remote. The same, red, button that had turned a manly shade of samon from use since the beginning of the camps. “&*^$ Dude. I mean $&*$^ @#$% (@&$#)@ you @%*. What the &^#$% is different from last week. I mean we were chummy, chummy last week. Even sharing beers.”
The shock caught Michael completely off guard, and dropped him to the floor. His good behaviour had resulted in him receiving few shocks during his stay, so he still had next to no tolerance. To his credit he’d managed not to cry out, and once the shocks had stopped made his way slowly to his feet.
Seemed that the girls were doing well, building up stockpiles and generally improving things for themselves. “Well haven’t you been having a grand old time of things?” he said with smile, still shaken from the shocks, “I’m afraid I’ve not been having nearly as much fun, Ted’s been moaning again.” Which meant Ted had nearly gotten them one of the collar controls, but was spotted. Fortunately he’d managed to fool the guards and they didn’t suspect what he’d been up to. “What about the ladies side of the camps, any moaners there?”
(( OOC: Cat, no worries at all... yay wrenches! ))
> “Dude! What the *&%^# is wrong with you! &*^$ Dude. I > mean $&*$^ @#$% (@&$#)@ you @%*. What the &^#$% is > different from last week. I mean we were chummy, chummy > last week. Even sharing beers.”
Some day, Sonya is sure, she is going to actually get good at this whole infiltration business.
Her power seems designed for it, after all, and whoever built the camoflauging bodysuit she's wearing clearly had something like that in mind. But she's realizing, not for the first time, that all the mutant power and high-tech gear in the world can't make up for lack of basic skill and experience. Why did I even get involved in this? I'm going to get myself killed one of these days, pulling stunts like this. These people are serious!
Except she'd had to do something to make James shut that thing off if she was going to earn the inmates' trust. And it had worked. So maybe she hadn't screwed up too badly in the long run; all she had to do was manage a little damage control. She starts with a belligerent step into the hallway, then lets herself grow slightly sheepish.
"Aw, @#!#$... didn't mean to chew you out. It's just that !@#!$! pansy supervisor... you know, the #!@#!@ from NYPD? He's on my case about meeting performance targets and @#!#$ like that. I just don't want no distractions on my station, y'know? Not this week, anyway... looks bad." A complete fabrication, but she doubts James will double-check with Rupert, or that Rupert will answer questions about his interactions with other guards. "Tell you what, after this @#!$ shift is over I'm buying tonight, OK?"
She takes care to be loud, allowing the prisoners in the room behind her to have their private conversation without being overheard by the other guards... though from what she can overhear herself, their conversation is fairly innocuous. Safer that way, anyway... there's probably surveillance cameras and stuff in there.
James’s smile flickered back at the reaction he got from Michel. Better then the one he’d ever gotten from the feline and her shocks lasted longer due to her abilities. The frown came back when Doug stepped in his view.
"Aw, @#!#$... didn't mean to chew you out. It's just that !@#!$! pansy supervisor... you know, the #!@#!@ from NYPD? --“
James Nodded. That explained it. “Yeah that ******’s a wet blanket if I ever saw one.” James shrugged. He gave Doug a football player style pat of encouragement. The type of pat that was south of the shoulder or back. (Will change that if I need to.) Then turned to walk down the hall. Beginning to hum the tune to whistle while you work.
Oh Wait a minute! His feet skid to a stop and he spun around. “Hey Yo! You Wanna start a petition with me to replace that ****** with someone who can actually do their job rather then hiding behind a set of funky looking headphones?”
Sara caught Michel under the arm to keep him from falling all of the way. She may be a lot thinner then when the camps started but she still had the old physical strength.
“What about the ladies side of the camps, any moaners there?”
“Emerald” Sara said after helping Michel up, whether he wanted help up or not. Then began folding cloths that had fallen. “But Neena talked to her, not me.” Neena had patched the wolf girl up a night or so ago after she came in.
> “Hey Yo! You Wanna start a petition with me to replace that ****** with someone > who can actually do their job rather then hiding behind a set of funky looking headphones?”
Sonya shrugs carelessly in response. "Nah... he'll screw things up sooner or later on his own and get himself flushed. Why should we stick our necks out? Anyway, I gotta get back to work. See y'tonight."
Privately, she makes a mental note to talk James out of that particular project over beers tonight... too much of her plan depends on Rupert keeping his position. Not that a loser like James would ever actually make something like that stick, she thinks to herself as she closes the door. Kicking people when they're already down is more his style.
Which seems a perfectly natural thought until she realizes she's never met James before. Which means she's thinking Doug's thoughts. Again. If I keep this up for much longer, I'll go all the way 'round the bend schizo! It's not the first time the possibility has occurred to her... and she's not at all sure whether she'll be able to tell the difference when it happens. After all, crazy people never know they're crazy, right?
None of which helps her with her current assignment at all, so she shoves it to the back of her mind and turns back to the three inmates behind her who are apparently gossipping about their fellows. They seem oddly intense about it, granted, but Sonya supposes life in the Camps can get awfully boring in certain ways.
Once she's sure the door is closed behind her, she picks up one of the boxes of junk to be processed by Customs, and surreptitiously reaches into a pocket to pull out a small package she'd carefully prepared before arriving for Doug's shift: packets of vitamin pills, antibiotics, and painkillers, along with a couple of high-calorie energy bars and a small printed note reading "Walls have ears. What do you need most?"
She turns her back to the camera to conceal her casually dropping the package in the box, then turns back to shove the box at Michael, snarling "Long as you're here, make yourself useful, willya?"