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.
Vicente slammed his massive fist against the door, causing it to buckle and open the slit between the doors wider. He could hear the descent of the elevator and it would only be a matter of time the large, metallic carriage came down to crush the life from their bones. But Hell if Vicente was going to allow that to happen to himself; and maybe Megan! So he pounded against the door, trying to open up just enough space for him to slip his fingers into and pry it open with his own two hands.
But before he threw forward another punch, suddenly Megan was there, squeezing in to try and help to open the doors. She scrambled to get her much smaller fingers in-between the doors and tried to pry them open. She was a self-preserving little bugger, wasn’t she?
With Megan’s help they managed to open the doors just enough for Vicente to finally get his own hands inside. Thank goodness too because he could already hear the sounds of the elevator closing in on them. It ground briefly to a halt, for reasons he didn’t know, but before long it continued on its trek. Whatever had stopped them it must have made short work of it because it bought them only seconds. But they were seconds that he was able to put to good use.
Megan pushed open the doors with her feet while Vicente growled and grunted, prying the doors open with his own two hands. Moments later it was enough for Megan to wiggle through, and she did. Vicente quickly followed suit.
The air of the lobby for some reason tasted so much sweeter. Maybe it was because they were moments away from freedom, maybe it was because the upper floors were closed off and stuffy. Whatever the case, Vicente was simply glad to be free of it all. Now they just had a couple more guards to handle before they were home free.
A glance to one side of the wall and he found Megan crouched there, knife in hand. He had to smirk silently at the thought. He was beginning to respect her just a tad more.
Quickly he checked the shotgun…one shot left. He was going to have to make it count.
Crouched down on the opposite side of the elevator’s doors, Vicente held his shotgun ready. When the elevator finally descended and came to a stop, there was the usual DING of the elevator doors opening. Vicente closed his eyes and waited as he heard the men inside. They argued back and forth about if they had actually crushed their victims or not and if so, why did the doors look as if they had been wretched open. Their arguing soon began to spill out into the lobby and that was when Vicente made his move. The first one walked out closest to Megan, he would leave that one to her. The second was far easier for him to dispatch of.
Vicente sprang out, grabbed the second man by the shoulder and pulled him off to the side. As he did so, he thrust the butt of the shotgun into the man’s chin which stunned him with pain, long enough for Vicente to turn the shotgun around, pump it, and aim it squarely between the man’s dazed eyes.
“Via con dios,” he muttered and squeezed the trigger.
KA-BLAAAM!![/b]
A second later he turned and walked back over to check on Megan, hoping that she was not dead already…
Trying to calm her breathing to a controlled rate, Megan sat perched and ready on the balls of her heels.
well... not ready, really. She had never done anything like this before. Her heart was pounding away, her limbs were tingling for some reason, and the absence of little spidery voices at back of her head was kind of throwing her off.
It was like that time in the salon, when that strange lady and somehow interfered with her mutation. She could still remember how itchy and twitchy she had felt, like her children were crawling around under her skin. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm herself, and gripped her knife so hard her knuckles turned white. Waiting was nerve-racking, especially with the sounds of the elevator quickly drawing closer.
When it stopped, she saw Rafael prepare himself, and the doors whooshed gently open. The first man stepped directly into her line of sight, and striking distance. With both hands, she swung her weapon, aiming for his thigh. But...she missed terribly and the blade sank into the crotch of his fancy suit. He fell almost instantly to his knees, buckling over with one of the most anguished groans she had ever heard. The small pistol he had been carrying landed on the carpet not far from her, just as the ear splitting BOOM from her companion's shotgun knocked put the other man down for good.
Snatching up the little silver gun, she turned back to the man she had wounded. Megan raised it, pulled the slide back to chamber a round, and pointed it at the guy... who.. was no longer doubled over. He was watching her silently, little beads of sweat racing down his for head and cheeks.
She froze. Her mind just... stopped. Muddy green eyes were locked on her, and she could swear they were begging for mercy. Considering she had never really been the merciful type... what with mocking the dying, and not really giving a crap about anyone not related to her, she found herself in a rare moment of uncertainty of what to do. He was a bad guy... she knew that. He would probably snuff her out in a heartbeat if he were the one holding the gun.. she knew that too. But she had never killed someone on purpose before, with her own hands. Accidentally? Yes... she could check that off of her things to do list thanks to a certain assassin... And there was no doubt that her children may have had a hand in the taking of a few lives.... But she was pretty sure all of those instances could be chalked up to self defense.
This though... She felt unsure. She was the one with the power to blow him away... and however exciting that had seemed before that very moment, now... now it was unnerving.
The man before her shifted slightly, unable to pull the blade from his wound without further injury, and cast his eyes over to the Assassin. Megan just... stood there. Not quite sure what to do with herself, or the gunman for that matter.
Vicente had completed his task. The man was dead so now he turned to check on Megan. He had heard the ear piercing scream and knew instantly what had happened. She young scrapper had managed to strike in a particular sensitive area that made even the assassin want to cringe. It should be a fairly simple job to finish the man off now. All Megan would have to do while he was down was to slit his throat. A simple enough task for one even such as her to complete.
But as he turned back to check on her, he found that she was standing there, holding a gun at the man who still withered in pained. The gunman was obviously desperate, eyeing Megan as if begging for some kind of mercy. The sad thing was that by the look on her face, it was obvious that she was falling for it. Vicente had seen that look many times before but he knew better than to let it get to him. Megan didn’t have that training.
A simple roll of his eyes and Vicente pulled a throwing knife from the inside of his coat. While Megan stood there in indecision, the killer acted.
A flick of his wrist and he sent the blade soaring through the air before it embedded itself deep into the sensitive tissue of the man’s throat.
The sounds that followed could never be accurately described. The sounds of life leaving a body while a human struggles to hold on, those bubbling bursts and struggles for breath that will never reach the lungs…and then finally an uncomfortable and disarming silence.
Vicente lived for those moments, but Megan, again, was not him. He raised his eyes to meet her as he stormed over, leaned down, and pulled the knife free from the man’s now still body. Quickly he wiped the blade on the man’s clothing before he straightened up and looked at Megan.
“Mercy won’t get you anywhere in this world, except a quicker pace to the grave,” he explained. “Don’t forget that. Next time, don’t pick up a gun unless you’re intent to use it.”
With that he stormed back around the corner where his own victim sat, out of sit, dead against the wall. Vicente tilted his head as he peered down at him. He would have hated for this whole endeavor to be lost. With no surveillance of him as the unicorn, he was going to have to leave a different type of calling card. Leaning down, Vicente dipped his finger into the pool of crimson that covered the tiled floor and looked up to the wall. With a grin he began to smear the blood onto it, swirling and dotting the once pristine wall with letters and words.
Once he was finished, he stepped back to look over the phrase he had written:
Justice for Mutants! -- The Unicorn
[/color][/center]
That should be enough to point more fingers in Sebastian’s direction. He wondered if the unicorn man was actually enjoying this attention. Surely he must be by now. But, if not, there was always MORE that Vicente could do. And he did en joy his job immensely.
Rounding the corner he turned back to Megan.
“Come on,” he said. “Police will be here before you know it.” Vicente sighed as he felt his head begin to swim again. The after effects of the drug were still in his system. He was definitely going to have to sleep this off…
Before she could really deal with any of the complicated bull she was feeling, Another blade flew out of nowhere and ended the confusing scenario for her. The guy slumped to the floor, dead as a doornail, and she let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.
God... having someone else do it was just sooooo much easier.
“Mercy won’t get you anywhere in this world, except a quicker pace to the grave, Don’t forget that. Next time, don’t pick up a gun unless you’re intent to use it.”
She glanced down at the gun in her hand, snorted, and tucked it into the back of her pants. No use wasting a perfectly good weapon. He did have a point though, she guessed... Any other situation would have gotten her killed for hesitating like that. Though... that knowledge didn't make it any less hard.
Maybe she'd remember it though. ...maybe. Striding over to the dead man, she yanked her knife from the body and stuffed it back into her boot, blood and all. She'd clean it later, when they weren't surrounded by blood and corpses. Turning back to her partner in crime, or... rather the other way around, she stopped short behind him and silently watched what he was doing.
"...mutant rights, huh? Didn't take you for activist type." She muttered. Then again, if he had been sent here to off someone, maybe it was supposed to be a falsehood to lead people down the wrong trail? She could think of no other reason as to why he'd have signed it The Unicorn
...Unicorn... really? God.
She felt her skin begin to crawl at the mention of police, and dug her cellphone from her pocket. A quick tapping of a few keys and she had the number of the driver who had dropped her and Ken off at the party. After a quick conversation, he had him on his way to pick them up. Sliding her phone shut, she shoved it back into her pocket and started off toward where ever the exit was. They still had a short walk to get outside, past a deserted front lobby. "... We'll get picked up shortly... "
She picked at her clothes as she slumped along, noticing now that there were little red splotches here and there where blood had gotten on her. Her sweatshirt was particularly saturated and wet, probably from landing on top of the guy she accidentally knifed in the lungs. Since it was black, the red didn't show through at all.. but she definitely felt like she needed a shower. Badly. And she was considering burning all of her current clothing later.
The brisk walk through a few hallways and past a few back rooms led them out into the main lobby. Outside the glass doors, she could see the limo waiting. As it turned out, he had only been parked a few blocks down, and it had taken him no time at all to get to them. "There's our ride.."
Once outside, she waved the driver off and let herself in, leaving the door open for Rafael to climb in as well. The man peeked through the little window inside at her, not really caring about how they looked or the fact that she was leaving the party with someone other than Ken. He had already been paid for his services, so he didn't care who he was driving around.
"Where too?" he asked, waiting to be told a direction.
Vicente was feeling far too tired now to really listen to the rest of the conversion. He knew that she was confused by the message that he had left. After all, he really was not the activist type. Vicente did want to challenge the authority but when it came to mutants, he really did not have a voice in either matter. So long as he got paid, he truly did not care where the money came from. But, he was going to play the part extremely well.
The drug that was in his system still tickled the back of his brain and started to make more things hazy. His adrenaline was lessening now that they were out of the way of danger so it would only be a matter of time before he ends up passing out. He needed to get home but he doubted how he was going to achieve this in his current state.
The bloody, exhausted looking assassin, sighed as stepped over to Megan (who now possessed a new gun!) and barely listened as she began to dial something on her phone. He was not exactly sure what she was talking about but he wanted to get out of here.
Slowly he began to move towards the front entrance doors so that they could exit and he could smell the night air again. But thankfully she had joined him and muttered something about a ride coming. He still was not entirely sure if he should trust her but he knew that he was quickly running out of options. So, in the end, he figured he would have to use her for this exit and if she tried anything, well, even in this state he should be able to get rid of her.
He followed next to her and felt a small burst of invigoration when the night air hit him. He sighed a little happily as he breathed it in, glad to be out of the smell of gunfire and blood. He would need to start on his ritual soon in order to cleanse his soul. He knew that it was about that time.
Then, out on the curb, he found that they were heading towards a limo. At first he figured that maybe it was more of Crane’s men, but before he could say anything Megan had opened the door and waved at the driver to get back into the car. Vicente could only shrug and try to lessen his paranoia as he followed in behind.
Slipping into the seat, he sighed as he tried to focus and keeping his body calm and to hold back the effects of the drug as much as possible. It was difficult but he slowly began to manage to find a precarious balance…
>> "Where too?"
He opened an eye as he glanced at Megan…
“Corner of 4th and Wabasha…” he whispered as he calmed his breathing and reached a balanced zen. “I can make it home from there…”
Climbing onto the longest seat in the car, she crawled over to a cleaverly hidden container tucked into the corner of the seat. Since it curved around practically every inch of the inside of the limo, there was plenty of room for her to claim an entire wall for herself, and let him claim his own.
"You heard the man, corner of fourth and Wabasha." As the driver pulled them away from the curb, and the crime scene, she let herself relax a little. Digging through the container, she tossed a bunch of little things ken had stored in there, small pouches of white stuff, big pouched of green things, a few packs of random bullets, and so on, until she found what she was looking for. A nearly full bottle of spiced rum. Yum!
She flopped back onto her seat, casually pressing the window up button until the driver could no longer see or hear them. She dug around in a compartment above one of the window, withdrawing a small glass, and poured herself a delicious, mind numbing drink. She also downed it in record time, and poured another, before looking back at Rafael.
He didn't look so well. Like he was already drunk, and she hadn't even offered him any. Her lips twitched into a half smirk, and she screwed the cap back on and tossed the bottle onto the seat next to him.
"You look like hell." She commented, laying back with her cup balanced on her stomach with her hands. She stared at the ceiling above, the shaded skylight, and chuckled. "I'd say that you're in no shape to be wandering around in that condition, and that you should probably crash for the night at my place... but that would kind of count as mercy, or pity or something... wouldn't it?"
Even with a cup full of rum swashing around in her stomach, warming her from the inside out, the pain her body was in was slowly starting to creep back out of hiding. Cursing under her breath, she wiggled back up into a sitting position and finished her second glass off, thoroughly enjoying the way it burned a path down her throat, and slipped her hoodie off. The tank top underneath had been splotched with blood as well, which was annoying, but she had a nasty looking wound to clean.
Or at least patch up. Activating her silk gland, she reached into her mouth nonchalantly and started pulling the thick strands of silk out, twirling them around a her finger as she went. When she had enough, she pulled at it until it resembled a gauzy pad. Then she pressed it to the wound. It stuck due to drying blood, and she set about spinning more silk around it to hold it in place. When she was done, after a few moments, she turned from inspecting the bandage and eyed Rafael's wounds. He didn't seem to have many from what she could see... save for pretty nasty monkey hand burns.
"...I could patch that up for you, if you'd like.."
Vicente struggled to keep his calm and focus as he fought back the effects of the drug in his system. It was not a pleasant feeling but at least he felt comfortable in the fact that he had made Crane and his men suffer for this misdeed. He would just have to be patient and wait out the rest of the drug to remove itself from his system. He had managed to keep himself alive so far but that was only because of the adrenaline pumping through his body and his will to survive. If it were not for the attempt on his life (and Megan’s help) he probably would have died right there.
But not that he was calm and resting, it was just a matter of time. Eventually his metabolism would burn the drug away and he would be back to his normal self. But more than likely not until tomorrow. For now he needed to remain focused on simple getting home.
Sitting there, as the limo bounced around, Vicente slowly found some peace and opened his eyes to the world. As he did he glanced over to see Megan resting, downing some alcohol in an attempt to shake her nerves from the day. He really could not blame her. After all, this must have been a hell of a night for the young woman. She took lives and did some real damage. It had been so long since Vicente’s first kill that he really had no idea how she was going to handle it.
Yet the assassin said nothing. What was there really for him to say? He’d long since forgotten that rush of nerves that came when first taking another’s life. He felt no fear of that anymore.
Lost in his thoughts, Vicente suddenly felt himself pulled out of his musings by the feeling of something being tossed onto the seat next to him. He blinked a couple times and focused in on the bottle of spiced rum. He’d never really had that particular brand but alcohol definitely seemed like a good choice at the moment.
He nodded his thanks as he scooped up the bottle and carefully undid the cap. Once he did he took a swig straight from the bottle and sighed a little contentedly…
>> "You look like hell…I'd say that you're in no shape to be wandering around in that condition, and that you should probably crash for the night at my place... but that would kind of count as mercy, or pity or something... wouldn't it?"[/color]
He arched a brow as he took another swig of the burning alcohol and flipped her a single digit gesture. That’s what she gets for trying to throw his words back at him. Once he done with the drink, he replaced the cap and tossed it back over, onto the seat next to her.
Silently he watched as she began to pull strands of some kind of webbing from her mouth. Interesting considering that her power was centered around spiders. In some ways it seemed like she fully encompassed her arachnid friends in more ways than just one. He was interested in how she began to use the silk as a field bandage.
That was definitely handy.
>> "...I could patch that up for you, if you'd like.."[/color]
Vicente glanced down to his arm. It had long ago shifted back into his human arm thanks to the effects of the drugs dulling his senses. He opened his hand up and winced at the sight of the burn marks that ran down his palm. He was definitely going to need to get that fixed up.
Normally he would have done that himself but he shrugged as he held out his hand for Megan to mend. Yeah…it was safe to say that his senses were VERY dulled now.
Picking up the bottle, she uncapped it and wiped the lip off with her shirt, then took a little swig herself. It was a little manly, but whatever. Her cup was out of range and she was lazy.
Plus, she had been granted permission to play nurse maid! Dragging the open bottle with her, she switched seats. Choosing to plop down next to him on the seat instead of patching him up from her own. Crossing her legs under her, she reached out and took his hand by the parts that weren't burned, reaching for another thick strand of silk. This time however, she pulled more slowly, allowing it to come out finer and softer. Burns were a lot different than cuts. Cuts didn't generally hurt in her experience unless you bumped it, or tore it open more. Burns though, oh man, they sucked. She could still feel the way her lip had burned after she had pierced it herself.
Slowly, she wound the fine silk around his palm, until it was thoroughly covered. Then she branched out to any other injured area's until he was bandaged quite soundly. Yanking the end of the thread from her mouth, with just a tiny bit of sticky saliva on it, she pressed it securely closed. "...there, that should hold until you get it patched up for good."
Sitting back, she took another swig from the bottle. Her head tipped back onto the seat, and she let her eyes close for a moment, slipping into contemplation. She was fairly tired herself, but still mostly hyped up on adrenaline. She tried to imagine everything that had just happened. Go back through it and analyze the crap out of it, real psychological stuff.... but revisiting the newly created memories did nothing. She didn't feel guilt really, nor did she think she would be having any nightmares.., because seriously, if she didn't dream about the sh*t she had already gone through, then she was pretty sure this stuff wouldn't phase her.
The only thing she could really still feel from the whole experience was pain, and excitement. That devious, twisted kind of joy people got from watching cars wreak, that most never admitted to. She grinned, and with her eyes still closed laughed softly. "That was kind of fun. If a complete pain in the ass. You must get paid an arm and a leg to do that kind of thing all the time." Raising the bottle to her lips, she snatched another gulp, before holding it back out for him to take. Then she tucked her hands behind her head and sighed contently. With help from her intoxicating friend, she was starting to feel much, much better.
"...wish blood was easier to get out." She muttered, touching the little healing wounds that were scattered across the base of her neck and back. She lost so many good shirts that way.... such a shame.
Vicente really didn’t know why he was actually going to let the woman mend his wounds. Maybe it was because she proved herself to be good, maybe it was just because his senses were dulled, but whatever the case there was two things that he knew: 1) his hand hurt, and 2) she had a way to bandage it to make it hurt less. So it seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do. So, with hand held out, he calmly waited for her to start.
Unfortunately she didn’t seem to feel that working on his hand from across the limo was sufficient enough to actually get the job done. Instead she moved to the seat that was directly next to him and went on from there. Cautiously he eyed her, not expecting her to want to move closer. After all, this had been one crazy night and if there was anything he thought was sure it was that she wouldn’t want to any more to do with him. But, she never ceased to amaze him.
She took his hand into her own and he watched carefully as she pulled silk threads out of her mouth and began to wrap it around the burn that covered his hand. He would have to get Dr. Adonis to look at it later, but once he got home he would be able to treat it with the appropriate medicines. Right now, the silk actually felt nice and cool against his torn skin.
And then…she was done.
>> "...there, that should hold until you get it patched up for good."[/color]
Vicente nodded a little weakly as he pulled his hand back, flexed it briefly and held it up to the dim lights in the limo. It actually did feel very good, but on top of that it felt a hell of a lot stronger. He had a feeling that this stuff was actually quite protective. But he would delve into those possibilities later. For now, he simply tried to keep his head from swimming.
He heard the bottle of rum get another swig taken out of it because it was handed over to him. Gratefully he took it and took another big gulp himself. It dulled the pain but it was making it a little difficult for him to actually see straight. The drug mixed with alcohol was beginning to disable him even more. It was a stupid move on his part but at the moment, after the night he had, he simply didn’t care.
He took one more big swig before he handed the bottle back to her.
>> "That was kind of fun. If a complete pain in the ass. You must get paid an arm and a leg to do that kind of thing all the time...wish blood was easier to get out."[/color]
“Vinegar,” he said quietly from his haze. Slowly he turned to face her as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to keep conscious. “Blot the blood with vinegar until the stain is removed, then wash in cold water. Heat will only make it stain worse.”
It was only obviously that a highly trained assassin would know how to remove blood from clothes. After all, though he made a lot of money with each kill, it was not as if he was exactly MADE of money. Even he needed to know how to remove blood when the time came.
Slowly Vicente felt the car come to a stop. He calmly turned and glanced out the windows to see his familiar street. He was close to him. After he gave a weak nod to Megan he began to attempt to move to his feet.
“My stop,” he whispered. “I…I have to go…” he muttered as he tried to stand. Unfortunately his head began to swim at a rather furious rate that caused him to fall back onto his seat with groan. The world needed to stop spinning…
"... Vinegar?" She repeated quietly. Maybe roach would have some of that at home... to like... splash in peoples eyes, or drown cats in or whatever it was that he did whenever she wasn't around. She grinned and was about to remark on his knowledge on proper laundry techniques, maybe try to form some kind of insult out of it and add a little pink polka dot apron for good measure, but... then she actually stated to wonder if she even owned vinegar. Seriously... who even cooked with that stuff these days? With a giggle, she let a scar speckled forearm flop over her eyes, and let the other fall into her lap. Her head was starting to swim a little. Which, she figured, was probably due to having neglected to eat anything before gulping down those few drinks at the bar. They were starting to sink in, and with the continuing swigs of rum...
Hooboy, she was in for one killer hangover in the morning. She didn't even notice when they slowed to a stop, but did hear the breaks squeak lightly in protest. Picking her head back up, her arm flopped back to her side and her vision swam for a moment. Yup. She was well on her way to being drunk.
Then Rafael started to get up, muttering about how it was his stop, and she found herself frowning. The party was literally just starting inside, and he was leaving? Getting wasted by yourself always sucked... she knew first hand. But... then he dropped back onto the seat unexpectedly.
Either the stuff he had been dosed with was back with a vengeance, or he was a super lightweight... or the two were interacting funny. While the small, annoying sober part of her chimed in with the logical answer, Drunk Megan latched onto the super lightweight excuse. Cuz' it was far funnier. Without a word, she grabbed the rum bottle, it's cap, and her coat, and then scurried over and opened the door. She offered him help out, waiting to see if he needed to drape an arm over her shoulder, or if he wanted help at all. The driver was out and holding the door for them, utterly uncaring at their state yet again. "Would you like me to wait, ma'am?" He asked. She paused, contemplating that question. The driver only knew where Ken lived... and she wasn't going back there any time soon. She considered just telling him to take her somewhere else, but... then he could relay that information to an angry, humiliated Ken. Which she didn't want happening either. So, instead, she shook her head at him swiftly. No, better to linger around Mr. Mcpunchface here, and let Ken deal with that if he decided to come snooping around.
The driver nodded, and shut the door behind them. "If you don't mind my asking, am I to still pick up your other... friend later?" He questioned, causing her to raise an eyebrow at the implications. As far as she was concerned, Kennith could remain passed out in his little back room all night, or for the next week... Or, he could just not wake up at all! As that would make everything much, much easier for her. But she couldn't tell the fancy-shmancy cabby that.
"Yeah... he should be ready for pick up in...oh... a few hours I'd say... Thanks, Goodnight!" She let her larger companion more or less lead the way, or at least point her in the direction of where to go. She figured she would just lurk around his place for a while, then slip off and head home once she was a little more sober. Heck, maybe she'd even steal his couch, since it looked like he was going to pass out any second anyway!
Then she could raid his fridge and surprise him with eggs in the morning... or whatever it was that friendly people did for each other after getting wasted the night before.
Vicente did not know how he had gotten out of the cab but all he knew was that he did. He stood in the refreshing night air but it did little to shoo away the lingering effects of the drug that he had been slipped. Whatever it was, it must have been strong stuff. He very well could have been completely incapacitated if it were not for Megan’s intervention. A mental growl tore through her mind. He hated owing anyone anything and at the moment it really seemed as if he owed Megan his life.
He shook his head as he began to stagger towards home. The sounds of the limo leaving escaped him and the he barely heard Megan following in step behind him. At this moment, she might as well have been a specter, a ghost, a shadow that he could not clearly see or feel. All he cared about was getting back to his home and sleeping off the rest of these effects…
The darkness clung to the streets and alleys as he walked. They beckoned to him, as if welcoming him home. They were the familiar dark corners that the assassin knew better than the back of his own hand. He knew that this was darkness that he could trust with his life, that would save him no matter what. But he did not dwell on them for too long. Instead he kept his eyes forward as he ignored them, seeking the comforting lights of his own home.
Before long, unsure how, Vicente found himself walking with his arm wrapped around Megan’s shoulders as she assisted him trying to keep him moving. He was obviously not leaning his full weight against her, but just enough to aide his already weakening steps to keep going forward. It was only when they rounded another alley corner that the assassin paused and looked up through his tiring eyes.
A breath of relief issued forth from his lips as he looked up and nodded towards a rather large and fancy looking building…the Alexander…
“There,” he said as he tried to maneuver away from her, just so that he could look a little more presentable. “Come…on…” he said as he took a breath.
One of the rules for living here, he knew, was that attention should never been drawn to one’s self. At least unnecessary attention. If he staggered in and collapsed on the cold, tiled floor of the lobby or something, he could very well be asked to leave. The thing about his luxury apartment was that amidst the rich people that lived here, those that had done well for themselves, there was also many who were of the criminal element. After all, criminals who made excellent money needed a nice place to live as well, didn’t they? But the one thing that demanded of all their occupants…it was peace, quiet, and little attention.
So, taking a breath to calm himself, Vicente sighed as he tried to focus to keep himself together. He just had to get back to his apartment and then he could pass out all he wanted. But in the mean time, he needed to get past the doorman and the lobby staff.
Still with a hazy mind, Vicente nodded to Megan as he began to lead her towards the building. The large glass door loomed in front of them and in front of it stood the stalwart form of a doorman dressed in a fine black suit and adjusting a clear earpiece in his ear. He looked like a bouncer more than a doorman but no one would ever call him on that.
As they strolled to the front, Vicente adjusted his suit and tried to remain in the shadows as much as possible so that no attention was drawn to the bloodstains on his clothing. Once they reached the door, the assassin nodded to the man and waited for him to open up. The bouncer/doorman, arched a brow as he looked across to Vicente and then to the young woman whom Vicente was productively keeping at his side. It was almost going to be a second too long of scrutinizing when the man nodded and opened the door to the lobby.
“Welcome home, sir,” he said blankly.
Vicente nodded as he moved into the building but kept Megan held by the arm. Once the door had shut behind them, he quickly whispered once he saw the lobby staff catch sight of the both of them.
“Play along,” was all he whispered to Megan as he made his way to the lobby desk with Megan in tow.
“Ah, Mr. de Sol! Welcome back!” the clerk said with a wide smile. “And how was your evening?”
“Excellent,” Vicente replied. “Messages?”
The clerk nodded as he reached behind his counter and pulled up only three or four slips of paper. “A few calls, sir. That is it.” The man stood there, silently as Vicente read through his messages. In the meantime, the clerk eyed Megan up and down, not hiding that he was doing such, and turned his attention back to Vicente. “I take it that…you do not want to be…’Disturbed’, sir?” he asked as he motioned to Megan.
Vicente grinned and nodded as he reached and placed the palm of his hand against back of Megan’s jeans and gave her rear a hearty squeeze and pat. He paid no attention to her reaction, after all, he told her to play along.
“You got that right,” Vicente said with a wink. “Picked up this little firecracker at the Chimera Club. Practically begged me to come back here. You ever been?”
The clerk smirked and shook his head. “No, sir. But maybe on my next day off I shall.” As he said this he reached behind and pulled out a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign and handed it over. “I shall route all calls to a voice mail. Have an…excellent evening, sir…” he said and then turned to nod to Megan. “To you as well…Miss…”
Vicente nodded as he turned to lead Megan to the elevators while pretending to read his messages. In reality though, the assassin knew that he was close to passing out but hopefully…just hopefully, they could make it into an elevator first…
Humming softly to herself, she followed along behind him for a while, content with sipping from her bottle and wiggling her way back into her Hoodie. It was cold from the still wet blood, but at least it didn't show as much as it did on her white tanktop. After a while, he needed the assistance she was there to provide, and without a word stepped up to help. He was taller than her by a good measure, but not un-godly tall, thanks to her own height. Also... having two inches of rubber under her heels also helped her cause...
She let him lead her toward a building, and a fancy one at that! She tried to control herself as her intoxication level rose, tugging her hood up into place over her messy hair. Following closely, she didn't protest one bit at his grip on her. She was far to concerned with getting access to a bathroom, where hopefully there would be a shower, and maybe that couch she had been thinking about earlier. On approaching the doorman, she kept her arms at her sides, bottle mostly hidden by her legs, and smiled cheerily at the doorman. Though she was well on her way to being drunk, she was still aware enough of her surroundings to notice that the whole things didn't quite feel right... and had a brief moment of hesitation about whether going into the building with the assassin was all that good of an idea.
But, before she could chicken out on what was already started, the front door was opened and she was guided in by the arm. “Play along,”
Play along? Yeah, okay. She could do that. She nodded slightly, one eyebrow hovering slightly above the other in lazy curiosity, and did as she was told. She was pretty good at acting, actually, when she had too. Standing silently by his side, letting her eyes wander a little bit around the place, she caught sight of the Clerk's roving eyes and a smile curved her red painted lips. The twenty five year old winked at him, and shifted on her feet, letting her free hand rest on one pale, uncovered hip. Even with all of her practice at being a "gold digger", she was caught off guard by the squeeze n' pat that Rafael suddenly dropped on her. Megan squeaked, but managed to pull it off like it was a pleasant surprise, and not the kind that made her shoot an icy promise of death at him with her eyes. Forcing a softy, sultry giggle, she squeezed herself closer to him and wrapped her rum carrying arm around his back.
“You got that right, Picked up this little firecracker at the Chimera Club. Practically begged me to come back here. You ever been?”
That name sounded familiar... Megan was fairly sure he had directed her to start working there at some point during the first time she had met. With that thought in mind, she knew exactly how to act. Like a cheap floozy, more or less. Grinning playfully, she turned and pressed herself into her companion, laying a hand on the front of his suit, and fiddle with one of his suits buttons.
Her grin grew at the clerks parting words, and as she was led off she peeked over her shoulder and blew a kiss in his direction. Then, turning back around, she dropped the smile and scowled. "...You enjoyed that." She muttered, tapping her nails on the glass bottle in her hand. On approaching the elevator, two other people appeared around a corner ahead of them. Two average looking men, clean shaven and in slick grey and black suits. They were also heading for the elevator.... Megan eyed them for a moment, before slipping back into the ....role... she had been given. Giddily giggly and keeping a little too close to him for comfort on her part. The two men were obviously going for an elevator ride with them, and since this was not her territory, she was more than willing to let him handle things like he had with the Clerk. And... by the looks the two were giving them, their thoughts were running along similar paths....
Inwardly Vicente smirked at Megan’s reaction to the role that he had suddenly thrust her in. She played along extremely well and the point that he was sure that this was the type of thing that she had done before. But the assassin had never said anything out loud. Instead he remained quiet and simply continued on with the charade as he led her towards the elevators. Megan drunken at his side, himself looking like every other “business” man that occupied this place, the pair of them blended in absolutely perfectly.
Unfortunately Vicente could already feel his strength sapping away. He had managed to hold on throughout that little conversation with the clerk but he knew that he was quickly waning. Judging by his current status, the assassin was fairly sure that he was going to pass out before long but they were closing in on the elevators. All he had to do was keep up appearances…
>> "...You enjoyed that."
He heard her whisper. And despite the fuzzy feeling at the back of his brain he had to smirk a little at the comment. Obviously he was not going to deny that there was a part of him that found that a bit enjoyable.
“Of course, I did,” he responded with just as low a whisper. “By the way, Adonis does some excellent work. That a pretty tight little a—“
He was cut off from his thoughts when he looked up to see a pair of business men making their way to the same elevator. Inwardly he groaned because he knew that he was going to have to continue with this ridiculous disguise all the way up to his floor. People in this building liked their privacy and especially did not like it when emergency vehicles were introduced into their worlds. That was the beauty of this place, so long as you didn’t draw attention, they really didn’t care what you did while here; so long as a trail was never left behind.
Vicente was not going to be the one leaving a trail to this place. He sighed as he tried gripped Megan by the shoulder and nodded to the two men who had stepped into the elevator. In a courteous manner, they held the doors open for both Vicente and Megan.
>> "Evening..."
“Evening,” the assassin responded.
Pulling Megan close to him, he did his best to hide the blood on her and kept up the look that she was the cheap floozy that she had already played. Slowly he moved them into the elevator, nearly stumbling because his world wanted to tilt over. But he managed to somehow make his way into the back corner of the elevator (after pushing the button for his floor), and held Megan close to him by her hips.
The second that the doors closed and the ascension began, Vicente prayed those two gentlemen reached their stops soon.
While she had to fully agree with his comment concerning her rear, she still resented the comment. Resisting the urge to turn and knock one of his knee caps out of place with her heel, she resorted to smiling guiltily at the two men waiting to board the elevator with them. Dropping a soft 'Thank you', she let Rafael guide her to the back of the elevator. Once the two other guys had left, she'd give him and earful... if... if she remembered what she was mad about, by then. With how her head was swimming, and the toasty warm feeling in her gut, she was more likely to forget that anything was said at all. In fact, how she was being forced to lean up against him was actually kind of comfortable...
Dragging her attention away from that fact, though more than slightly out of it, she was smart enough to still peek around for any little cameras. If there were any... they were well hidden, because she couldn't spot them. With her bottle still in hand, Megan allowed herself to plop her cheek down on his chest, and let her eyes slip closed for a moment. He was surprisingly warm, and not as squishy as she would have pegged him to be. Ever so slightly, she could even hear a heart beating somewhere in there. Which was kind of funny in her drunken state. Cracking open an eye as the elevator stopped with a soft ding, the doors slid open and the two men stepped out with a polite goodbye.
God... she had never been so happy to be alone with a murderer for hire. Megan remained close to the assassin until the doors slipped closed and they stared moving again. Then she stepped back and to the side, remaining within arms reach... just in case anyone else decided to join them between then and his place. The metal wall of the box the were in was freezing in comparison.
Scowling, she rubbed at her eyes and stole another swig from the rum. A drink she probably didn't need... considering that they had both practically emptied the bottle, her more so than him. "You're an ass... you know that?" She kept her voice low, only hinting at her annoyance, and wrinkled her nose at the various letters she managed to slur a little. Yep. She was drunk. Only way the situation could get worse in her mind was if she blacked out and woke up the next day in a bathtub full of ice, missing a kidney. "...you, sir, had better have a damn good shower, and a damn comfy couch." She muttered, forgetting herself and leaning into him again.
The elevator ride was tense. At least to Vicente it was. Though part of him knew that the two men in the elevator didn’t have a care in the world about him or the women that he brought up to his apartment, he still did not want to press his luck. So instead he remained still, keeping up his appearance of the sugar daddy as he let Megan lean against him and cuddle. If his mind were not so hazy, Vicente would have been wondering if she had some ulterior motive for getting so close to him. But instead he thought nothing about what she was doing. In his haze he simply caressed the younger woman’s hips as he kept watching the numbers of the floors passing by.
10…
11…
12…
DING
Vicente blinked as he watched the two courteous gentlemen offer their polite goodbyes and slip out of the elevator. He sighed, feeling the weight of his haze trying to push him down onto his knees. But the assassin knew that the elevators were being monitored. No…he had to make it to his apartment…
Leaning against the cool metal of the wall, the assassin watched as he felt Megan detach herself from him and lean against the opposite wall. Though she apparently assumed that she too was being watched (since she remained at arm’s length), she also had this embittered look about her face. He was not fully sure if it was derived from the drunken stupor he could already see descending upon her, or if she had truly been offended by his actions down in the lobby, but he found it amusing all the same.
>> "You're an ass... you know that?"[/color]
He smiled and chuckled as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cool metal of the elevator’s walls. His laughter reverberated around them as he near-drunkenly shook his head. The combination of the drug in his system, and the alcohol he had already had, were beginning to weigh more heavily.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to compliment one of your assets,” he retorted. “Next time I have something nice to say about you, I’ll turn it into an insult.”
>> "...you, sir, had better have a damn good shower, and a damn comfy couch."[/color]
His chuckling slowly died down as the elevator began to move again. Before he knew it, a drunken Megan moved back into place, leaning against him and waiting for them to get to his floor. As they waited, Vicente could feel the drug slowing down. It had finally reached the apex of his worst effects but they were still none too pleasant. He was tired and only wanted his bed now. But also, for whatever reason, he did not mind the young blond that was playing her part in this little game far too well. Instead of normally shaking her off and scowling, Vicente remained in his own stupor as he looked blurrily at the numbers that dinged until…
DING!!!
He looked up to numbers to see that indeed they had stopped at his floor. He patted Megan’s shoulder (already feeling her fall asleep) to awaken her and urged her to start walking. The two made a lovely pair as they staggered out of the elevator and moved down the finely carpeted and well lit hall. Vicente ran his hand along the surface of the wall until finally he reached his apartment number.
Gratefully, he sighed as he fumbled for his keys in his coat pocket. When he finally retrieved them, it took a try or two before he finally managed to set the key inside of the lock and turned it until the door popped open. With a look of relief, he just shook his head as he pushed the door open for Megan and flicked on the light.
“Get in, before someone else sees you,” he muttered. As he opened the door for her, he revealed quite a sight inside his apartment…