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.
They say the skies over Tokyo burn a milky white-blue when the Midnight hour hits, like the bottom of a glass of vodka through melting ice. It’s the street lights, really. And the buildings. And the billboards. And the torrent of information trailing through LCD screens and fluttering radio wave bursts up towards space. All the light pollution waters down the cloud banks, blotting out the stars and what you’re left with is a murky haze reminiscent of the bottom of a bar counter, black and unreadable. Occasionally you’ll catch a chip or dip in the cloud cover of toxic fog outlining the moon. This night, it was an entire plane.
Winking red flashed on the edge of a wing as the jet turned its engines roaring down over the city. A bat cracked and a white ball tore up towards the moon, spinning three times in its arc and eclipsing the plane for a moment. The bat crashed against the side of the chain link fence as the batter took off, rolling through the dust to stop at the next batter’s feet.
The next batter was a brunette, hair bobbed off in a cut that would make a pixie look modest. She picked the bat up with a smirk, tapping it against her heel to knock off a clod of dirt and swinging it up to point towards the pitcher like the hands of a clock.
“12 ‘o’ Clock.” She said. The bat came back into place by her shoulder in the winning stance. She bathed in the stadium’s fluorescent lights. Searing in like a comet, the pitch connected with shaved wood. It hit the back fence like a criminal scrabbling to escape purgatory. “Home run~”
She took her bow. Coming in off home plate she snagged her coat. The cellphone swung up to her ear on the first ring. “Speak.”
“Lenna darling, you’re a star! You’re wonderful, you’re fabulous! One of the best!”
“You flatter me, director.” Lenna spoke through terse lips and a forced smile. “What are the details on my next assignment?” The man on the other end of the line was fresh, a new face on the same old scene. He spoke in rushed American, putting too much effort in his words. It wasn’t even English once he was through…
“Everything’s in order. The stage is set. Shooting begins at 10 tomorrow evening, at Fuji Television in the Odaiba district. There are a lot of extras and special effects in this scene, so be prepared because there won't be a second take.”
“Good, because I won’t need one.” Lenna replied, turning to aim a wave at a stunning Japanese man as he stepped up to bat.
“Marvelous.” The director spoke. “Good luck.” The line went dead. They didn’t even say ‘good bye’ these days. Closing her cellphone, Lenna turned back to the battery. It was time to watch some cannonballs fly into fences. She sat down and braced herself. This was gonna be hard.
~*~
Silent rainfall draped the area of Odaiba, hitting the water in the bay like a thousand cymbals crashing in the dead of space. Colors flickered in the murky blue,. They spread out in resounding waves. The skyline was dead, the tourists pushed indoors. Even the lights on the famous Ferris wheel were muted, gone from a vivid violet to a softened cerulean. Nobody was out that night, not a soul in the city. Empty streets as far as the eye could see, leaving only CEOs in their companies to handle last minute paperwork… except.
A slate grey umbrella clattered to the pavement as a hand shot up and a pale shadow fired. Rounded like the claws of a candelabra, the hook flew through the mask of rain into a window. Shards of glass shattered inwards as it landed on the carpet. Silence. The hook sat there for a moment, then… it hopped, like a fish out of water! Flopping along the carpet, it raked its way up to the edge of the window. Its claws found hold. Tugging on the line, Lenna reeled herself in. The white of her clothes contrasted violently with the somber black of skyscrapers as she skittered along up the side of the building, but on a night like that one contrast was merely a point towards style. Gripping the edge of the window with gloved hands, she pulled.
The carpet padded her landing in a muffled ‘thud’. Crouched with arms on her legs, she glanced around the darkened room though a haze of green. A chair sat on its side amid the sea of broken glass, and a conference table took up space. In the corner, a fancy plant raised its palms as if in greeting. A smirk tugged at the lining of the white cotton mask covering the lower portion of Lenna’s face. The coast was clear. Turning her head, she focused on the exit.
Footsteps echoed down the hall. Metal clicked into place as Lenna drew a bead on the door. She was no Solid Snake. As rain fell outside and a sea breeze drifted in through the window, the assassin played the role of the tortoise and waited.
She didn’t have to wait long.
Bullets perforated the door like an exclamation point and it fell like the silence at the end of a sentence. Security guards raged in. One moved its hand, pointed fingers, made a gesture towards the window. Their tactical lights played tag with the shadows. Like wolves circling in around their prey, five men closed in around the table. One nodded and pointed downwards, nonverbally giving the ‘go-ahead’. Out of nowhere, a chair flew into his face. In the confusion two shots rang out, another chair fell, a body flew through unbroken glass. Lightning cracked in the distance, brought light to the scene. The silhouette of two bodies lashed together, feminine arms wrapped in a hug around a gasping man’s neck. A quick jerk and his body hit the floor. Blood trickled from a gash across his neck—severed windpipe. Lovely sound. Gash, gasp. The final guard froze like a bad statue actor. His face was pale, his raised hands shivering. Another flash. Lenna stood with her leg over her last victim’s back, hands clasped around Justice. He met her eyes through the glass of goggles, distorted and wild like a jungle cat.
Fear welled up in him like ‘baking soda meets vinegar’, fast and bubbling to the point. Justice was quicker. Justice was a gun.
Stepping over a dead body, Lenna made her way to the target.
The director was right, Lenna noted calmly as she stepped over another guard’s body. Extras up the ass and special effects by the boatload. That was the eleventh guard of the night. She was beginning to make a game of it. Slipping through the vents, she’d drop down behind them and say ‘boo!’ Then she’d gut them like rabbits. Perfect plan.
But it was getting old. From the tenth floor to the top, she reworked her plan. The elevator dinged as it hit the penthouse level. Fountains babbled and pillars decorated the room. Every here or there potted plants waved. A large desk sat at the very back, chair spun around to face the window. Security guards piled around the lone route to their charge’s heart. Their shoulders tensed as the doors slid away.
“Open fire!!” Handgun fire resonated along the trail of the shaft. Metal slugs fell off the elevator’s empty back wall. “Huh?” One guard muttered dumbly. “Someone check the sides.” Maybe she was hiding in a corner?
Nah.
A bald head moved into position under the open air of the elevator roof, turning left and right with routine. The cast-aside grate slumped against the metal rope as Lenna waited, leaning on her knee with interest.
“All clear!” He announced. That was her cue. Dropping down like a falcon, she pressed Truth close to his neck, holding him in front of her like a shield. A look of panic and confusion danced across his face.
“Alright! I want all you sons of lovely women to back off!!” She cursed, shoving him along as they left the shaft. His body shifted left, right with another routine; block the bullet. Her hand dropped to his side, gripped his gun hand, and raised it, squeezing the pistol from his grasp. It hopped face to face as she forced her way through to the other side of the group. A final step, she smiled. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
A kick sent the poor guard flying. The men on the left and right of him fell as shots squeezed off in haste. Dashing from pillar to pillar, she mowed down panic-stricken henchman. A white hot minute later, she was wiping Truth’s blade.
“Low level grunts are so not the drama...” Footsteps padded to the desk at the back of the room. “Shigeru Miyamoto? Wait, wait. I’m getting the name wrong. Hiromi Tsubomi? That you?” She tilted her head. Silence spat back at her. “Look, I know it’s heartbreaking but your time is up, pal. Your case has been closed, card drawn, gambit trumped. You lost, little man. As your executioner I feel it is my duty to at least read you those last rites, you dig?” Again, silence. “… Okay, this is starting to piss me off. Speak, damn you!!” Her hand darted forward to spin the chair.
A dead body flopped onto the table.
“What a twist!” Another voice clapped. A lady dressed in red stepped from behind a pillar, wearing the same costume Lenna wore in a different palette. Goggles hung around her like a fashion accessory. Lenna drew her gun.
“Alright. Just who are you and why’d you do my job for me? What the hell kind of bodyguard does that!?” Green eyes flared. Lenna’s own goggles had been cast aside in the fight.
“The kind whose mission is a little different…” Lady in red replied tentatively, holding her chin. “But you’ll have to catch me to find out more!” She flew off towards the rooftop staircase like a ball from a cannon.
Now, normal people would cut and run here, but Lenna was not normal people! This person’d taken the cherry off her sundae. She would pay for it with her life.
It was the Eleventh Hour and Lenna was breathing exhaust fumes. With every step she pounded up that spiral staircase to the roof she felt it burn into her lungs like the tinge of formaldehyde.
It preserved her.
Without it, she wouldn’t be human.
She burst through the doorway like a whale breaks the ocean’s calm, back arched and spouting profanity like saltwater. The rainfall was heavy now. Water tore down her back like mercury bullets. No longer were her eyes emeralds, the green daggers of light from the prowling jungle cat. Now they were the flaming fury of an incensed wildebeest ready to charge. Furious eyes that searched the rooftop, scanned it for any sign of the cherry-picking kill-jacker who’d taken her charge.
…That electrical charge of revel and revelation that hummed through her every fiber as she talked someone ‘less than thou’ through their final moments of mortal toil. That charge she had taken. ..
And now she was going to pay. Like the big brother who snuck the prize from the bottom of the cereal box while no one was looking, leaving you to pour out the entire container in a hopeless search. She was going to pay.
Going. To. Pay.
But first. “Where ARE you!?” Rain diluted the roar. A sheathed katana fell in front of her with a clang, black case engraved with a spiraling golden dragon. A red blur dropped from the tip of a rolling world sphere onto the rooftop like a clap. Well, that was easy. Lenna smirked.
“Take it. I want this to be a fair fight.”
“Tch, and who ever said fights were fair.” The hammer on Lenna’s gun clicked back. She stood with her sights bared like teeth. The woman in her line of fire stood there, unreadable with her hand at her back. “Try me.”
“You always were quick to draw Judgement.”
“Oh please, it’s Justice now. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t strike you down now…”
Silence. It almost seemed like the other woman was smiling. “Because you prefer happy endings?” She offered.
“I said a good reason.” The gun’s tip drew closer. Raindrops slid down the barrel like a rock climber down the face of a sheer cliff. Terse lips cut Lenna off with a better response.
“Because I have information regarding your parents… and I think you’d rather know why I was sent to kill you than live looking over one shoulder every time you take a piss.”
“Now see, was that so hard?” Metal pressed against her lips as she kissed the back of the gun and slid it away. Lenna bent to take the gold dragon sword, fingers wrapping around its sheath begrudgingly. “So you’ll give me answers then?” A sarcastic lilt of faux hope raised her voice for the message edge.
“Did you really think it’d be that easy?” Serene eyes shook their heads ‘no’.
“You know, for a second there… I thought it’d be funny seeing your head splatter against the pavement. Fine then, if it’s a fight you want then you’ll get your fight. I’ll get my information. And then… well, let’s leave that to your imagination.”
“Peachy. You always were one to indulge in cheap talk.”
“Give you a dollar if you quit talking like you know me.” Metal sheered off sheath as Lenna drew her blade.
“I’ll take that dollar, since talk is cheap.” The other blade swung from its guard to hang in front of her face. It hung at an angle like a weeping willow bent over the riverside to drink from her hand. The flat of the blade slid into the stance horizontally, pooling her strength into a triangle of forward motion as her foot opposite the sword-bearing hand pressed down into wet rooftop, propelling her towards an oncoming blur of white. Their blades met like wind shield wipers scraping against the smash of the storm. Lenna slipped out of the path of the horizontal strike, brought her own blade up against her side and held it steady there to block. Wheeling around each other, metal bared down on metal. White feet struck out fast, dashing against exposed red toes. The contact between blades snapped and they broke back, slinking.
Every move was weighed.
A rapid inhalation brought the scent of salt and raw sewage to both fighter’s lips. Whenever it rains, the sewers flood. Like bile rushing up to meet the throat, Lenna’s shining sword shot forth. It met the gold lion on the other fighter’s sheath. Dug a hole straight to equipment’s early grave. The other blade cut in like a sonnet to clang against Lenna’s in a horizontal slash like the spin of a tornado. With a sheath in one hand and a blade in the other, crimson countered Lenna’s hasty slash and knocked her staggering back.
“You always were bad with samurai swords.”
“Thought we were getting paid to stop that.” Lenna spat with narrowed eyes.
“Like we’ve established,” their swords met again like a skull and crossbones. Lightning bolts seemed to spark up between their eyes. “Talk is cheap.”
The contact broke. Lenna shifted her stance uncomfortably as they circled each other like dogs. “Do I know you?” She muttered incredulously. “’Always’ this, ‘were’ that.” Their blades swung in like monks ringing a bell. The reverberations sent shockwaves trembling through her teeth. “It’s as if you’re baiting me to believe we have something in common… some history that… LINKS us!!”
Xs and Os. Blades connecting, contact breaking. O, they broke apart again, and once more their blades met like scattered prose. “Search your heart. You’ll find the answer.” They broke.
“What the hell was that supposed to mean?! You’re talking like a Jedi master but you’re grinning like an idiot while doing so! You jack my kill, you taunt me openly, and now you leave me with riddles. What the hell kind of statement is that?! I know peoples’ true selves emerge on the field of battle, but Hell. If I’d wanted chitchat I would of invited you for tea…”
“Battle is the best place for confrontation. You said that too! Always the lies and doubletalk, Lenna. That’s what got you into trouble. Walking the walk, talking the talk, but all the while a hypocrite who runs away! I only wish the truth didn’t sting as much as this blade!!”
“Leave the angry words to clashing swords.” Lenna smashed metal against parrying metal, anger rising off her body like steam. “Just shut up for a bit, okay?” She needed to think.
“Fine,” the red fighter spat with what sounded like a sneer. “But don’t complain when my last words leave you hanging…”
The battle broke down into silence from there on out. Rain falling like mist onto a dying world, their two blades met time and again, locking Xs and charging Vs. The rhythm was like music, back and forth, one two one two.
Like windshield wipers. Like erupting volcanoes. A pendulum swinging up to hammer a metronome. The Three Stooges turning wooden planks to accidentally smack each other across the face.
Running across the giant dome, they drew their blades. One final clash would decide it all. Dropping back to the rooftop, they sheathed their blades. A freezing wind whipped by, the red fighter fell over.
Lenna turned, face lapsing into sadness at the end of a long game. “And now we talk.”
She loomed over the crimson fighter and ripped off her mask. They say when it rains it pours and the sewage from the sewers rises up in the banks of the river like bile from a sinking stomach looking for a way out. They got the bile part right. Holding her mouth, Lenna lurched forwards, staggered a foot to the left and collapsed to her knees. She’d certainly never expected that.
“Lenna…” Eliana’s contorted voice called to her. Tear-filled eyes turned to her childhood friend, and she fought back a constricting lump in the back of her throat. The Hispanic woman’s face was aged and mutilated. The child mercenary had never seen her this ragged. Her breathing was labored through a voice synthesizer that reminded Lenna of Darth Vader. The paleness of her skin didn’t help Lenna fight off the comparison.
“—The hell did they do to you?” Her eyes betrayed the accusation in her voice. “And attacking me… Fighting me like that, what’s gotten into you, what’s…”
“Shush. Shut up for a bit.” A bitter smile played at Eliana’s cheeks admiring the irony like a skydiver caught in free fall as the anvil flies from their chute. “I don’t have the time…” Her face twinged in an echo of pain. “You shouldn’t… fool. When Cortez sent me to kill you, I never thought the shoe would be on the other foot, but I’m glad… Somehow. At least I could die to a friend.”
“You aren’t making sense.” Lenna hushed her. “Why would he send you to…— we left on good terms!”
“You broke his good intentions… and his heart.” Her throat was dry. Losing large amounts of blood does that to a person. Choking through a gulp, she forced herself to continue. “You left and he thought… you’d move on. Do something with your life other than deal in death. It could have been a fairytale, but you… you just had to go and kill people on his ‘do not touch’ list, didn’t you…” It wasn’t a question. Her body rocked in a cough.
“Do not touch list… oh.” Lenna’s face fell. “That kind of agenda, is it? Assigning you to correct the problem he’d foolishly neglected to foresee. And now…” Her hands clenched over her dying friend’s sides. It just wasn’t fair… and now drops of rain were rolling down her face? Or were those tears… damn. She thought she was stronger than this.
“In our line of work, it’s always the cliché crap that gets us isn’t it?” Eliana offered weakly, face cinched into a bitter smile. She tried to sit up but Lenna rushed to hold her back down.
“Stay still! You’ve lost a lot of blood. This… you can survive this. Don’t talk like that.”
“Please. Lenna, I’m dying. Even if I don’t die today, he’ll find out. Don’t think the scars on my face are from sitting around getting fat in my old age, will you? He beat that glimmer of hope out of me ages ago. Especially after I disagreed with him on matters involving… you.” Another rocking murmur through her body. They were getting more frequent now. Blood streamed away from her like a river, propelled by the rain towards the edge of the roof. Eliana’s form was getting weaker and weaker in Lenna’s arms.
And all Lenna could do was watch it helplessly, unable to do a damned thing. “Ell…”
“It’s getting closer now,” icy breath rose up in front of her face as Eliana stared wide-eyed at the sky. “Death. She’s a Gothic girl in casual clothes with an ankh around her neck and a mark of Horus under one eye… just so you know.”
“That’s oddly specific…”
“It’s a comic book.” Eliana spat. She still had enough energy to reprimand, and she’d use it as she pleased, thank you. Still… “One final thing before I go lunch with Elvis. It’s about your parents… Cortez…”
Lenna’s eyes widened as Eliana’s lips moved to speak the words. A sense of silence seemed to fall over the frozen rooftop as wind chilled by. A final beat.
Thump.
“no.” Silence. She shook the body. “No.” The rigid silence was killing her now, one final shake. “NooooooOOOOOOoooOOOoOOOOOoooooOOOooooOOoooOOOooo!!!”
And the rain that fell on that cold Spring night could no longer dilute the words escaping the depths of her soul.