The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Welldrinker Cult
A shadowy group is gaining power, drawing in people who are curious, vulnerable, or malicious, and turning them into Mystics. They are recruiting people into their ranks to spread the influence of magic in the world, but for what end goal?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
It was lunch time at his school and like all lunch hours Micheal was in the Music room with the Choir Master. Rapheal and Gabriel where with him of course as they ate their lunch and spoke about music. It had been almost a month since Micheal met the man in the wheelchair, who spoke to him in his mind, and his parents hadn't decided on the new school. But despite his wanting to go, he would miss his friends. They chatted absently without a single care in the entire world. Then as if the gods themselves decided that they hated the small group. There was a crash as the door was kicked open and a team of SWAT entered weapons drawn.
"ON THE GROUND NOW!" the leader bellowed causing them all to jump. The Teacher stood and said,
"what is the meaning of this" While the boys simply looked scared from their chairs.
"I SAID GET ON THE GROUND!" The leader took the butt of his rifle and smacked the smaller man across the face, breaking his nose and causing blood to fly. The boys immediatly droped to the ground. The SWAT Leader smiled as his men surounded the boys.
"WHICH ONE OF YOU IS MICHEAL HODGINS!" The man yelled as his men pointed weapons at the boys. Micheal was about to stand when Rapheal stood up.
"I am" The redheaded boy said with a coy smile on his face. The Leader was not amused. He knew from the report that the boy he was after didn't have red hair so he raised his hand to slap the boy for being impertanent, when Micheal stood and said.
"He is not Micheal. I am. What do you want?" The boy said the man stayed his hand, though he wasn't sure why.
"Micheal Jonathin Hodgins, you are here by placed under arrest under the Mutant Acts passed by Congress. If you will come with us." Micheal cocked his head as the man spoke.
"Mutant? Me?" Micheal asked confused.
"Yes you. Your father has made a report about you." The man said, finding that he was truely careing for this boy. The other SWAT looked around confused that their hardedged leader, who hated all mutants with a fervant passion that was unmatched by anyone they knew.
"Do I looke like a mutant? Plus wouldnt a Mutant have fought you? I am only a boy." Micheal said nervously as he moved between the leader and his friend. He smiled a simple smile of the child he truely was. He had no intrest in getting himself off. He didn't know if he was or wasn't a mutant, but he did know that his friends were innocent.
"Your right, a Mutant would've atleast fought us." The man said then turned to shi men and said, "Come on lets go, it seems that we have had a false report, there are no Mutants here." The SWAT XO turned to the Leader and said,
"But sir, isn't it obvious that..." Before he could finish the Leader shot him a glance that could curdle motlen steal then hit him in the gut with his rifle butt.
"I think I would know a mutant when I see one." Then he leaned in close and said in an intimate fashion, "If you ever question my orders again I will make sure that you are on our next arrest order. Is that clear?" Then he stood up and said to everyone, "Move out!" the group left the boys and to tend to their fallen teacher.
It had been 3 hours since the incident in the music room, that resulted in the breaking of Micheal's teacher's nose. Micheal had spent the rest of the day dreading the end, and watching the clock Because the SWAT Captain had indicated that it was Micheal's own father who submited the report. So as the time ticked toward 3:30 Micheal grew more and more anxious and found himself praying that time itself would simply stop. But it never did,
"So the Mutant Acts were enacted by an act of Congress to protect..." The bell rang interupting a rather rotund, congenial faced women,
"So remember I want you too read pages 41-52 by monday as well as answering the questions on page 53. Have a great weekend." She called out as the students began to husstle out of the room. She smiled as she knew that it was futile, even though it was a private school, only about half of the students would actually get the assignment finished. Micheal and his two boys were still sitting in the middle of the class. The boys knew that Micheal didn't want to go home, though he normaly didn't this time they knew it was for a different reason.
"Micheal, don't worry about it I am sure your mother will talk to you father." Gabriel said from Micheal's right.
"And if she doesn't you can always come stay with me" Rapheal said with a smile on his face. Micheal was happy that his friends cared for him so much, but he had this dreadful feeling that this would be the last time he would see them. He grasped each of their hands and squzzed them.
"I love you guys." He then got up slung his bag over his shoulder saying, "But ther is always tommorow, we always go swimming on Saturdays. See you guys at the Pool!" He then ran out of the classroom, more to keep his friends from seeing him cry, then because he had to catch his ride. Putto made it to the lincoln towncars that the school used in place of busses, and got in his, and broke down crying. The driver pretended not to notice as he drove the boy home.
The Lincoln Towncar pulled up to the Hodgins Estate, passing the Pool, the Tennis Courts, and even the stables. As always the staff waved at the car, welcoming home the young master, completly oblivious to the fact that this might be the last time. The car stoped, and the driver got out and made his way around then opened Micheal's door, bowing.
"See you monday morning?" the man always asked if he would see the boy the next school day always knowing the answer, though this time he could very well be wrong. Micheal slowly heaved his body out of the car, he didn't even look at his chaufer of the past 5 years, he simply walked right past him. The man knew something was wrong, and followed after the boy, getting in front of Micheal he knelt down.
"Micheal what is it?" He asked tenderly putting a hand on the boys shoulder. All of his training told him not to touch the boy, let alone follow after him, but he looked to Micheal as if he were his own son, hell he saw him everyday. Micheal looked up at the man, tears rolling down his face as he said,
"The attack on the music teacher at lunch. It was me they were after, because my father told them I was a... a... Mutie. I am not a mutie, why would he say such a thing?" Micheal explained, his tears flowing freely now, as he moved closer and hugged the man.
"Don't worry, everything will be alright. And if you need help just call me," The man pulled back and retrived a card from his coat and handed it to the boy, "I will come and pick you up if you need a ride. And don't worry your not a Muttie, your too cute." He then tusseled the boy's hair and got up heading back toward the car, "Now go inside your mother will be waiting, she always is." He said as she shot a smile over his shoulder at the boy. Micheal walked through the door just as the man pulled away from the carport. Micheal entered the kitchen hopping to see his mother, but she was not there instead he found only Willamina the cook,
"Willamina, where's mom?" The boy asked as he entered. The old women dropped a roasting pan full of potatoes as the boy spoke, she then ran to him and scooped him up in a hug.
"Your here... It is a miracle... Your father told us what he did..." The women said between pecks on the boys cheeks, Micheal squirmed in her arms and then said,
"Of course I am here. I am not a Muttie. Where's mom?" He asked again. Willamina let the boy down and before responding,
"She is in her Morning Study, she has been there since your father told her what happened." Micheal ran off toward his mother's study, glad that she was still here. When he reached the stairs he slipped on the rug but continued to run, and then took them two at a time, he finaly made it to the room when he heard shouting from the other side.
"It's all your fault that our son is a Freak!" A male voice yelled, it was followed by the sound of a hand smacking flesh and the shattering of a porceline.
"Dear do you really have to beat me to salve your consience about what you did to our son?" A plantive female voice with an austrian accent called.
"Don't you dare pull your womenly wiles on me, I will give you something to cry about!" He yelled, Micheal in an uncharacteristic burst of anger flung the doors open and jumped on his father's back. The bigger man spun around and tossed the boy into a wall, where Micheal fell limply.
"I see you talked your way out of even an arrest warrant boy. Well lets see you Talk your way out of the Beatting of your life, you little Muttant Freak!" His father called out as he began to undo his belt. Micheal cringed in fear as his hulking father approached him belt head oposite the buckle. The man laid into the boy with abandon blood flying, in arcs away form the boys body as the belt lodged itself and then ripped itself out of the boys back and limbs. Micheal found himself unable to do anything but cry as he huddled in the corner. In another corner of the room, Miss Hodgins rose up and reached over grabbing the matching vase to the one broken only a few moments before and brought it heavily down on her husbands head. She had lost her son once today and would not stand for it again. The vase shattered almost as if in slow motion as her husbands body limply slumped to the ground. She looked down at the mangaled form of her son and fainted at the amount of blood. Her only thought as she fell was of how much she wanted to hold him. Micheal looked up as his father fell and took the opertunity to run, he ran first to his room and hastily packed a bag with some close and his favorite teddy bear, then ran to his father's room and grabbed some money out of it's hidding place he hopped it would be enough but he wasn't about to stay here. He then ran out down the stairs and out to the gates, his bloody and torn shirt getting stuck in his wounds. His tears obstructed his vision as he ran through the grounds toward the main gate, he tripped on one of the rock gardens opening up holes in both knees of his trousers. He finaly made it the gate and stumbled into a care.
George (The Chaufer) had had every intention of driving off as soon as he had left the grounds, but suddenly felt an overwhelming sadness and pulled the car to a stop just outside the gates, he decided to take a moment to call his wife and chatted absently with her, about her day and how the kids were. He had just asked her what she wanted for dinner when he heard a thud on the back of his car, he turned and saw Micheal sliding just down out of site behind his car.
"Jesus Christ!" He yelled as he registerd what was happening, from the other end of hte line his wife said,
"Well fine then if you hate roastbeef that much we can always have chicken, but there is no need to swear about it."
"No, it's Micheal, the boy I drive to and from school, oh god what happened." George dropped the phone and hurridly ran out of the car leaving his phone on. He got around behind the car and grasped Micheal in his arms, then he saw the blood it was everywhere, he didn't know what to do. So instinctively he picked the boy up and laid him tenderly in the back seat of the car, he then removed his coat and placed it over the boys body, he seemed to have fallen unconscience. George then got in the front seat and peeled off in the general direction of his own home. It was almost 5 blocks away when he heard a voice calling from the passenger seat and realised he left his wife on the line. He picked it up and heard,
"Oh God George what is it, where did you go?"
"I am here Julie, we will be having a guest for dinner. Call John and have him come over for dinner, ask him to bring his bag." George tried to say calm but then caught site of his hands soaked red with blood,
"Oh God Julie there is so much blood." He then hung up the phone and continued to drive trying to stay calm and not attract attention, for if he did how could he explain a bloodied beaten child in his back seat.
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Jan 14, 2008 23:00:12 GMT -6
Haven
Member of Haven
Bi
822
9
Aug 29, 2018 17:15:00 GMT -6
Calley
“So I was saying to the guy, I was saying, like hell you've got three aces. 'Cause look here at my hand: now I don't think these decks usually have five of these things, now do they?” Officer Lapakko of the Connecticut State Troopers laughed long and hard over his own joke, making the 64 ounce Doctor Pepper in his hand slosh alarmingly. In the passenger seat, Rupert laughed too, leaning his head into the glass of the window: his stomach hurt, he'd been laughing so much. It was a given that Jay here wasn't actually funny. Somehow, that actually made his jokes better.
“So how long to your house?” He asked, after he was done wheezing air back into his lungs.
“Not much further. Just past a few blocks past these fancy-pants places here.” The trooper jerked his head towards the expansive houses sprawled across their perfectly manicured rolling lawns. “Figured I'd go past them, for old time's sake. Do you remember that Halloween when we--?”
“Stop, stop!” Rupert laughed. “Now that was illegal.”
“That,” Jay winked, “was college. God I miss college.” He took a swig of his over-sized drink.
Yes, Rupert was in a state trooper's car in Connecticut. Officially speaking, though, he was a home with severe food poisoning. Just as officially, Jay Lapakko here was out on the highway manning a speed trap. What their employers didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Unofficially, this was a much over-do mental holiday for Rupert. He'd tried hanging out with his friends on the NYPD. He'd gotten one too many good-job slaps on the back for his new position, though. Jay, here, didn't even know he'd ever made Detective, much less Camp Supervisor: they'd fallen out of touch just after graduation, after a disagreement over work ethics. Really, though, there was no time like the present to get in touch with your old friends and have a day of mindless conversation.
“Well lookie here.” Jay grinned. “Tail light out.”
Rupert raised an eyebrow at the car just up the block from them, and glanced at Jay. “What do you have against Lincoln town cars?”
“My brother-in-law has one. Wouldn't stop talking about it at Thanksgiving.” With a malicious glint in his eyes, the trooper started signaling for the car to pull over.
Rupert rolled his own eyes, and leaned back in his seat. “You're an asshole, Jay.”
“Damn straight. Want to hit the bar after this?”
“Yes, please.” Jay's concept of a work ethic really wasn't bothering him, today.
George made sure he was careful to drive within the speed limit and observing all the laws. He had made it almost home when he suddenly went white, a Conneticut State Trooper car signaled for him to pull over, so he did, hurridly trying to come up with something to say about the kid in his back seat. Micheal was well known, after all he was a Hodgins, and this wouldn't bode well for George. He quickly retrived his Licence, Registration, and Charter placing them on the dashboard, then rolled down the window and placed his hands at 10 and 2 waiting for the officer to question him. Just before the officer got our of the car he remembered that the back windows were tinted and with the new models he could roll up a privacy window between the Driver and the passenger he quickly did so and then waited for the officer.
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Jan 14, 2008 23:43:43 GMT -6
Haven
Member of Haven
Bi
822
9
Aug 29, 2018 17:15:00 GMT -6
Calley
Rupert stayed in the car, hmming a song to himself as he waited for Jay to chew out this driver over the combined misfortune of having the same car as his brother-in-law, and for having a tail light out. He really was an asshole. Everything from the way he assertively slammed shut his door to the way he swaggered over to the Lincoln town car, hand on the butt of his gun, screamed 'I'm here to make my life a little better by making your day a little worse'. He struck a shame!y, I'm-in-charge pose next to the rolled down driver's window, and started leaning in towards the person at the wheel to really put on a show. Rupert rolled his eyes, and snuck a sip form the trooper's Doctor Pepper. It was in that second that everything changed.
Jay straightened back up, and shifted the hand on his gun from a shame!y display to a cautious, ready-to-draw grip. “Sir,” he said, now displaying all of the professionalism he'd been lacking; his voice was pitched at a carefully level tone, meant to be clearly understood without escalating anything. Rupert set down the cup. He already knew the next nine words he was going to hear: “I need you to step out of the vehicle.” Officer Lapakko stepped back, allowing the driver room to do so, and putting a space between them while he was at it. His next words were more characteristically Jayish: “Keep those hands where I can see 'em. And while you're at it, how about you explain why it looks like you've been butchering chickens, or some such.”
George swallowed hard as the cop ordered him out of the vehicle, so he reached out the window and grabbed the handle, his company paid him highly to make sure that he didn't escalate situations involving Cops it was bad for bussiness. He then opened the door and pushed it all the way open, exposing the blood on his pants, he then climbed slowly out of the car keeping his hands out in front. A plethora of lies ran through his head, but he knew none of them would be believable once the cop opened the back door. So keeping his hands up he knelt down with his back to the car and the rear handle within easy reach.
"Officer I am a driver for Annunciation Boys Prepatory Academy. I had driven a student home, as is my job, I turned out of his yard and called my wife, a short while later, the boy came running out at me, he was bleeding so I picked him up and put him in the back of my vehicle with the intent of bringing him to the hospital. Here let me just open this door for you." With out turning his body or taking his eyes off the cop he reached over and began opening the back door.
"The boys name is Micheal Hodgins, of the Canterleaver Group Hodgins." He added hoping it would help. All these words he spoke in a clear and slightly raised voice so as to broach no questions as to what he was saying or doing.
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Jan 15, 2008 0:14:40 GMT -6
Haven
Member of Haven
Bi
822
9
Aug 29, 2018 17:15:00 GMT -6
Calley
Rupert could tell, even from here, that Jay was just about as impressed with the man's blood-stained appearance as he was. And he wasn't even seeing it up close and personal.
Jay let the man talk. That was a good rule of thumb: you let them talk, they usually say things that they go back on later. Rupert had to admit that he was impressed with how the driver was handling himself, though. Being covered in blood was not the best way to talk to an officer of the law, but he was keeping a fairly level head on him. Hopefully, that Academy was paying him what he was worth. Hopefully, this was even a case where innocent until proven guilty was doing its work for the right side of the law: the man's story might just hold up. At the least, he hadn't done anything particularly stupid just yet. Besides put a boy who was bleeding that much into his car.
Rupert himself couldn't see in the back seat of the Lincoln, despite his attempts at craning his neck in every conceivable angle, and straining forward towards the windshield until the seat belt started reeling him back in on a kiddy lock. He unbelted himself with an frown of annoyance.
Meanwhile, Officer Lapakko was worrying about Micheal Hodgins in that back seat first, and how he'd explain being thirty miles from his scheduled route later. “You,” he told the man simply but firmly, “stay right there. We'll get this sorted out.” He flicked a switch on the radio at his shoulder, and ordered an ambulance. The only time his eyes had left the driver was when the man had opened that back door: then they'd gone wide for the briefest second, before falling back into unreadability.
It was times like this Rupert wished that Connecticut and New York were the same state, or that he had some jurisdiction out here. Sitting in a squad car but having no legal powers just didn't sit well with him.
George heard the man call for an ambulance and got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had to do something fast or his attempt to save Micheal would be for naught.
"Officer, I don't think that is an overly good idea. This afternoon Annunciation School was raided by SWAT under a Muttie Arrest and Detain order, based on information given by Mister Jonathin Hodgins, the boys father. The SWAT Captain decided that Micheal wasn't a Muttie, which is good since he isn't I mean look at him? But as soon as Micheal got home he was beaten like this. Knowing how close the Canterleaver Group is to the hospitals, do you think it would be a good idea to bring him there? His father might just come back to finish the job, or get someone else to do it." George quickly pointed out, wishing he had Micheal's gift for convincing people of things.
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Jan 15, 2008 17:25:15 GMT -6
Haven
Member of Haven
Bi
822
9
Aug 29, 2018 17:15:00 GMT -6
Calley
"Officer, I don't think that is an overly good idea. This afternoon Annunciation School was raided by SWAT under a Muttie Arrest and Detain order, based on information given by Mister Jonathin Hodgins, the boys father. The SWAT Captain decided that Micheal wasn't a Muttie, which is good since he isn't I mean look at him?”
Rupert was getting rather fed up with his passenger seat position to events. Not that he'd be doing much if he happened to be a member of the Connecticut State Troopers, and was actually standing out there: Jay had done what there was to be done for now. As long as the driver didn't suddenly pull a gun, there was just the wait for an ambulance, taking George here down to the station to give his statement, and paperwork. There was always paperwork. Especially when child protective services was about to get called in because of a bleeding boy in a back seat.
And it definitely wouldn't have helped matters if Rupert pointed out a little fact he knew: when the SWAT team went on mutie raids, they didn't come back empty-handed. Not if they found their target. Connecticut's registration process might run a little differently than New York's, but he didn't think it was that different. With so many mutants able to pass for human, the only way for a suspected mutie to prove their genetic purity was a blood test to screen for the X-gene. Unless, of course, you had some sort of power of persuasion.
Rupert wasn't a big fan of freaks who could influence a person's actions—he'd met exactly one too many of those, lately—but... it was a kid. A kid who'd just gotten beat by his dad so badly that Rupert didn't even have to see him to know he needed to go to the hospital.
Out there, Jay was trying to reassure the driver, but he didn't look too reassured himself. “Don't you worry. We're talking about Jonathin Hodgins here, not some mafioso. He's got ties to the hospital, but...”
The sound of the ambulance could be heard now, shrieking its way closer.
“I'll make sure there's a guard on his room.” Officer Lapakko finished, obviously quite unsettled by the idea of sending the boy to a hospital his father owned in all but name. Rupert, frankly, couldn't blame either of the two men for their sudden case of nerves. Even he'd heard the name Jonathin Hodgins, and he made a habit of staying away from international company figurehead types.
The ambulance braked to a halt and the EMTs jumped out, bulky red medical bags at the ready. Blissfully, they cut the siren. It hadn't been helping Rupert think. And think he needed to, because mutants and hospitals didn't usually get along too well. With any luck, the kid didn't have any obvious mutations.
((ooc: Do you want to fast-forward to the hospital, whilst I PM Sonya about picking up a certain upcoming phone call?))
Micheal felt his body move, and looked up to see the smiling face of a heavy set female paramedic.
"Don't worry son, we'll bring you to the hospital, you'll be just fine." Micheal was about to respond when the women moved a mask over his face and he fell asleep again...
*****
Meanwhile George had gotten off the ground and was unsure how he would explain this one to his wife and the school. But he woudl think of something. He knew the car would be siezed and that he would have to go downtown, so he wasn't surprised when he was escorted to the cop car, he was thankful though that there was no handcuffs. Though he would've prefered to have been in the Ambulance with Micheal, he too had a duty to perform, and that would be to make a statement.
*****
Micheal awoke some time later and felt the bandages on his back. He was in a hospital room, and there was no one to be seen. The door to his room was closed though. Then a bolt of fear shot through him as he realized where he was, his father was the biggest supporter of this hospital and he knew it. Micheal quickly looked aroudn for his clothes but did not find them, he then got back on the bed and awaited the imminant arrival of his father.
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Jan 15, 2008 22:50:35 GMT -6
Haven
Member of Haven
Bi
822
9
Aug 29, 2018 17:15:00 GMT -6
Calley
((ooc: I'm going to set this before Putto wakes back up, to give Sonya some time to commute from NY and join us in person later on. After we RP a quick phone call, I do believe Rup will stop into Putto's room soon after the post you just made, timeline-wise, if that's cool. )
Jay Lapakko was not a fan of paperwork. He was even less of a fan of child services, having been in an out of foster care himself as a kid. That's why when Rupert volunteered to make the call for him while he got a head start on the nitty-gritty formalities of legal work, it didn't take bending any arms backwards to get Jay to agree. Fortunately, a man didn't have to be in his own jurisdiction to call child services. A man didn't even have to be a cop in any way, shape, or form. Rupert found himself a nice empty room at the station, closed the door, and committed treason against the human race.
It was a surprisingly straight forward task. He'd found the phone number in his mailbox a few days ago, with the sign of the Resistance he'd been shown weeks ago at a certain bar printed next to it. All he had to do was dial an area code—local to NYC, he noted—and seven easy numbers, and presto, a cheerfully stereotypical ring let him know he was connecting with people who took care of their own, or so the theory went.
As soon as the phone picked up, he was quick to set the context: “Child services? This is Detective Kelley. I'm calling to report in a case. The name is Micheal Hodgins. His father just beat him into a hospital bed; he even tried to get the SWAT to arrest him as a mutant, if you can believe it. Can you come and pick him up quickly? We're afraid the father is going to come after him: he needs a foster home, and fast.” That was probably more than enough: he'd said who he was, and he'd put in pretty blunt clues as to why he was calling. At the same time, if the number was some kind of elaborate ruse by someone who suspected his loyalties weren't with the home team, he hadn't actually said anything that would hang him out to dry. He could always claim he'd dialed the wrong number. It wouldn't be the most believable claim, but it would hold up in a court of law. With the right jury.
Sonya is somewhat startled at the phone ringing as she changes out of her guard uniform in the Camp lockers. Not that ringing is such an unusual thing for a phone to do in principle, but she's not really expecting a call.
Which, when she checks the caller ID, leaves her feeling more than a little foolish. I did give him the number, after all. She hesitates before answering it, trying to remember which voice she's supposed to use with Rupert, then realizes it doesn't actually matter... he has no way of knowing whether the number he was given belongs to "Teresa" or "nameless shapeshifter" or some receptionist. So she goes ahead and answers it while wearing Doug's body.
Before she can even say hello, Rupert starts talking:
> "Child services? This is Detective Kelley. I'm calling to report in a case. > The name is Micheal Hodgins. His father just beat him into a hospital > bed; he even tried to get the SWAT to arrest him as a mutant, if you > can believe it. Can you come and pick him up quickly? We're afraid > the father is going to come after him: he needs a foster home, and fast.”
Decoding the message makes her feel clever for a moment, before a more objective look makes her realize it was about as challenging as beating a 7-year-old at Monopoly. Deciding what to do about it takes longer.
Not my problem, whoever this kid is. My shift is over, I just wanna go home. Somebody else can take care of him. Except she knows perfectly well that she's not going home -- or, at least, not going to Doug's apartment, which is what she'd meant by it. (Except, since when is that dingy place "home"?) She's got a couple of errands to run for Syn tonight, plus some shopping for the next shipment of useful goods for Doug to sneak to the inmates tomorrow, plus she wants to put in an appearance at Calley's apartment... and none of that actually matters as much as rescuing this kid does.
"Right. Um, certainly, detective. Where are you -- I mean, what hospital?"
Posted by Rupert Kelley on Jan 16, 2008 19:25:07 GMT -6
Haven
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Aug 29, 2018 17:15:00 GMT -6
Calley
The delay in reply almost made him think he did call the wrong number, until he realized the person on the other end would have just said that, and hung up. Instead, he was being treated to the cellular silent treatment.
"Right. Um, certainly, detective. Where are you -- I mean, what hospital?"
Rupert tried not to sound as relieved as he actually was as he replied: “He was just taken to the Yale-New Haven hospital.” ((ooc: Hope that's okay, Putto!)) It was a fairly well known hospital in their region; he was fairly confident the Resistance knew of it. Or if they didn't, he was pretty sure someone on their end knew the word “Google”. The voice on the other end is a man's, and not one Rupert recognized. Whoever it was certainly sounded tired, but not exactly frazzled by his attempts at cryptic speech. Idly, he wondered how many other people had this number, and how many other strange phone calls came in on a daily basis. He had the sudden feeling that his own attempts at clever codes probably paled besides the calls this man was used to hearing. Which meant he probably sounded like an idiot right now. Rupert cleared his throat. “How soon can you be here? ...Is there anything else you need to know?”
New Haven? That's in friggin' Conneticut, isn't it? Sonya's grasp of geography outside of the five boroughs is fairly limited, she's pretty sure that's right. So, what... am I supposed to drive #!@$!@# out of state to pick up this kid? Why not just call Resistance HQ and set up a connection?
Except the last couple of times she'd tried that, with Naveed and Ian, it hadn't worked so well. And besides, it's an opportunity to get back in touch with Detective Kelley, which she'd been meaning to do for a while now to talk to him about the Camp's surveillance network.
> “How soon can you be here? ...Is there anything else you need to know?”
How soon? Sonya has absolutely no idea. "One moment, detective... I'm checking our available, er, our availability now," she replies in a deliberately bored-sounding tone. How far is New Haven from here, anyway? At first she has no idea, then remembers the girl he'd dated back in '96 who lived in Stanford... that had been about 2 hours from the Tappan Zee, though he'd done it in 45 minutes once by flooring the accelerator the whole way; not much traffic along rt.15 late at night... and New Haven was about half that distance on rt. 95. This time of night, shouldn't be more than an hour, half that if she's lucky.
"All right, detective... Yale-New Haven hospital, Michael Hodgins, correct? We're dispatching a pickup now. Our records indicate visual identification should be possible; do not establish contact with anyone except Teresa, do you understand? Expect her within the hour."
She's already walking into the parking garage as she finishes the conversation.
(( OOC: call it 45 minutes for her to actually get there, but I'm going to assume they are uneventful minutes, except for Doug maybe getting a speeding ticket. ))